


Mistier Mists (Hazier Days)

by phantomsunsets



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1960s, Aftermath of Violence, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Crossdressing, Fluff, Friendship, Gender Dysphoria, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Mild Blood, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Self-Acceptance, Slow Burn, Smoking, Suggestive Themes, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 10:05:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomsunsets/pseuds/phantomsunsets
Summary: The arrogant and untamable Roger Taylor is shoved into yet another new school where he meets a band of misfits just like himself. The thing is, he begins to take a shining to the least spoken one out of them all.





	1. You Take My Breath Away

**Author's Note:**

> I spent December of 2018 writing this fic, but I deemed it not good enough to post anywhere. My New Year's resolution is to start sharing my writing, so here is the first piece of writing that I've shared publicly since 2016. The title is lyrics from Drowse, and all chapters are titled with a Queen song that fits each chapter's theme. I greatly hope that you all enjoy this simple, yet meaningful, high school AU about love, friendship, and acceptance. :)
> 
> Side note: I chose to post all of this fic at once since it's all completed. Also, nobody enjoys waiting for updates.
> 
> -Phantom

Plump, tiny lips in an almost unnatural shade of pink resided just below Roger Taylor's button-esque nose. Heavy-lidded eyes with pale arctic irises glittered like gemstones, wide and doe-like. Choppy, long blond locks in all different lengths with fringe hanging on his forehead fell around his dainty shoulders and caught the light just like how his eyes did. Straight, bright marbles gleaming in a smile could knock the pants off of any passerby.

Roger's supple lips were cherry painted, strikingly bold against his milky skin. Silver glitter eyeshadow was dusted on his low lids, and a fresh coat of black polish was carefully painted onto his nails.

Besides makeup, Roger was also wearing a fitted, black cardigan with white, flower print over nothing but his bare skin. The whole world could see his chest and abdomen. High-waisted, velvet jeans hugged his legs in the shining, black material. Red, lace-up ankle boots with a chunky heel added to his height to make him just under six feet tall. A tight, leather choker was wrapped around Roger's smooth throat, clutched as close to his skin as it would fit. A long, silver necklace with a crescent moon pendant was suspended against his breastbone. Two bulky rings were on each of his hands to brighten up his long fingers.

His final, completing piece was a single, dangling earring with two silver leaves swinging around and jingling against each other. All's Roger had to do was lower his heavy eyelids ever so slightly and part his lips as they curled up into a half-smile. His eyelashes would brush against his cheeks with each slow, seductive blink. Roger kept his chest shaven so that he could leave the top halves of his shirts unbuttoned. He was a sucker for his waist-hugging pants and favorite heeled boots. A neat, little necklace or two could always tie his outfits together. Roger was a divine specimen.

"Could you get any more desirable?" he asked his reflection, in a low, raspy voice.

Roger's natural voice was a bit high for a male, but on an early morning like this one, it was still gruff from the night hours. He'd woken up after falling in and out of a light sleep that wouldn't fully commit to having him, as today was a big day in Roger's life. He was starting yet another new school, the third one in his high school career, to be exact. Roger had finished only one month of Year Eleven at his old school, before displeasing events unfolded. He and his mother had moved and started up again, but he wasn't getting another chance.

He subtly licked both of his thumbs, rubbed them over his blond eyebrows, and winked at himself before stepping out of the bathroom in his slightly-too-risqué-for-school ensemble of clothing and jewelry. Roger fluffed up his shaggy hair and slung his crossbody bag over his shoulder. The _click clack_ of his heeled boots echoed against the eerily quietness of his new home as he searched for his mother.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, nearly running into him. "Are you sure you want to go all out on your first day? Why not give it a week or two?"

Roger scoffed. "I look phenomenal. Can't you see that?"

"I never said that you didn't," she defended. His mother pressed a hand to her forehead and gazed at him with a strained expression. "I just don't want something to.. go wrong. This is the third time. The third time, Roger! My boss outright refuses to transfer me again. This place is quiet and calm, and we have this lovely house. You have to make it work. I'm _begging_ you to make it work."

"I didn't mean to ruin everything again!" he fired, feeling blood rush to his cheeks.

She pressed her lips together and reached out to grab Roger's hand, but he pulled away. Maybe he was an abnormal problem child with a fiery temper, but it wasn't his fault that he liked to express himself in the unacceptable ways that he did.

"I wasn't just going to let them beat the shit out of me. It wasn't fair to expel me because I was only defending myself from those douchebags," he ranted.

"You broke some kid's jaw, Rog. That was your fourth fight in just one month! You better be on your best behavior today. Don't snap back at someone if they comment on your makeup," his mother demanded, crossing her arms.

Roger coyly smiled. "Alright, Mum. I'll let everyone walk all over me because I'm expressing who I am."

She shook her head and began, "That's not-"

"Just stop. I refuse to lose myself in order to make it easier. I won't compromise my feelings or try to change the person that I know I am. I am not hiding ever again. I tried that, remember? Hiding only made things worse, Mum," he assured, turning towards the front door. "I'll see you later. I wouldn't want to be late on my first day."

With that, Roger bounded out into the golden rays of new sunlight that seeped out from in-between the cracks of the fluffy clouds. The sunshine bathed his nimble form in its orange glory, as if he were just the pinnacle of all beauty and needed the light more than anyone else in Europe. He was already acquainted with his neighborhood, for his grandmother once lived up the road from their new home. Roger used to spend his summers tumbling around on the grassy hills, and now, this little town was where he would restart.

He ambled along the sidewalk while humming to himself and basking in the warm sun. To other people, it might feel like such a downer to be forced into picking up your life somewhere else, but it always felt good to him. Roger didn't care what anyone else thought of him, which was why he was so willing to fight for his honor. If someone was going to treat him like scum for doing what felt right, they would get put in their place. That went for everyone in his new school too.

Roger arrived at the two-storey, brick building that was much smaller than what he was used to. Maybe a more intimate environment would mean less hate, but he could never be sure. His guard would stay up all while staying true to himself. He filled his lungs with sweet, end of summer air and stepped inside his new demise. It was time to face his peers.

"Mr. Taylor?" asked the young, pristine secretary, as he stepped into the office.

"In the flesh," he purred, leaning on her desk and giving her a subtle smirk.

Her soft, brown eyes studied his form. "I.. Where.. You don't have a shirt on," she stuttered.

"Shh, it's fine, doll. I won't tell if you won't tell." Roger winked and slightly inclined towards her. "Can you direct me to Mr. Howler's English III class?"

The woman nodded, seemingly unable to formulate words. She couldn't have been very much older than him. Her heart shaped face didn't contain a single freckle or line of age. The world had yet to carve her out, but it would eventually. It did to everyone.

"Take the staircase right outside of the office. It's the first door on the left," she finally squeaked out.

"Thank you, beautiful. I'll see you around," he cooed, floating out of the office in order to woo her into silence.

Roger followed her directions while combing a hand through his wild hair and dabbing at his lips to make sure the lipstick had dried. Once he had adjusted his cardigan, Roger put his hand on the doorknob and let himself into the quaint classroom of thirteen students. The first two rows of three tables were filled with two students at each, but in the third row, there sat a lone student gazing out of the nearby window, seemingly in his own world.

The instructor stepped over to Roger from his podium. "We've been expecting you. We don't get many new students here. Please, introduce.. yourself," he suggested. On his last word, the teacher noticed Roger's attire. "Did the secretary clear you to come to class dressed like _that?"_

"Oh, Mr. Howler, she more than cleared me. Poor woman couldn't take her eyes off of me. I may just have myself a girlfriend by the end of my first day." Roger held his tongue between his teeth while scrunching up his nose. "What? Does it kill you to have the prettiest boy in your class?"

"Darling, if you're referring to yourself as the prettiest boy in this classroom, you are sorrowfully mistaken," commented the loan student, from the back of the room in the most formal English accent Roger had ever heard.

The blond boy couldn't help but smile to himself. "May I sit back there?" he asked.

Mr. Howler nodded. "Appropriate dress tomorrow, please."

"Sorry for being so ungodly stunning.." Roger whispered to himself, as he not-so-delicately plunked into the seat next to the mysterious, black-haired boy. "Who might you be?"

He fluffed up his shoulder-length hairdo and grinned at Roger with a mouthful of _interesting_ teeth. The boy was dressed in a white top that cinched in around his waist. The sleeves were long and puffy, but he looked so elegant in it. A simple, golden necklace with three layers shined against his tan skin. The matching bangle set jingled on his wrist. His dark eyes were lined with black, jutting out into sharp points to create the most intricate cat eye look Roger had ever seen.

"Prettier than you, blondie," he remarked, averting his gaze back to Mr. Howler.

Roger did the same, but he was too in awe to pay attention to a thing their teacher was saying. The sassy boy scribbled down some of what Mr. Howler was saying, but he mainly just hummed to himself and watched the trees outside of the window. The class seemed to drag on forever, but at the five minute bell, everyone began packing up.

"To answer your question, I go by Freddie Mercury. And you?" asked Freddie.

"Huh? Oh, right. Roger. Roger Taylor. I like your style, Freddie," Roger added.

Freddie fanned himself. "I can say the same to you, Roger. Do tell me how you manage to make your tiny lips look so full with that bold color."

The blond kissed the air for added effect. "It takes practice, Mr. Mercury. Everything does," he assured.

"Indeed. Maybe you could show me sometime? I know a lovely boy here that would look great with lined lips like yours!" he exclaimed.

Roger clicked his tongue. "To think, I figured I was the only boy in England that could appreciate the delicate art of liquid lipstick."

"Darling, you are nothing short of wrong! I'm an eyeliner queen, myself," Freddie declared.

"I like your personality, Freddie. Maybe we could do each other's makeup sometime?" asked Roger, lowering his eyelids.

The feminine boy nodded in response. "You'd be honored. It's a date, Mr. Taylor. But first, you have to meet my dear friends. They are just like you," he proclaimed.

With that, Freddie grabbed Roger by the arm and led him off down the hallway. Once the fair boy stopped outside of a classroom, he turned to Roger and winked. As he gently waved goodbye, his bangles chimed together.

"Wait, when will I see you again?" asked Roger.

"Soon, darling. I think we're going to make wonderful friends."

Roger spent the rest of his morning in a typical fashion. His new teachers asked him if his clothes were up to code, and he wooed the ones that he could. Many students stared and whispered among themselves, probably commenting nasty things about his glittery eyes. He didn't expect them to understand, but alternatively, he didn't give a fuck. By lunch time, his stomach was rumbling madly for sustenance. Roger had been too focused on perfecting himself to eat breakfast before leaving, so he was excited to track down the cafeteria.

Before he got very far, Freddie had rejoined his side, as quiet as a mouse and as graceful as a swan. Roger let Freddie hold onto his arm once more. 

"Where are you taking me now, stranger?" questioned the blond.

"To meet my friends, of course. Don't you want to?" Freddie inquired, jutting out his bottom lip.

Roger smiled. "Of course, I do. I just don't understand why you are being so nice to me. We just met a few hours ago," he reasoned.

"Pish posh. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to introduce you to my precious boys. This school isn't all candied kisses and acceptance. Have you ever been spit on for being yourself?" asked Freddie.

"Well, yeah, but I let my fists do the talking when somebody dares to ruffle my feathers."

The dark-haired boy belted out a laugh. "I'm a lover, not a fighter. My friends aren't fighters either. That's why we stick together. That's why I thought you'd need support," he explained.

_Support._

"That sounds.. lovely. I'd be honored to make their acquaintance. Please, lead the way, Freddie," insisted Roger, the mere s word giving him a certain sense of foreign comfort.

The only support system that Roger ever had was himself. There was once a time in his life when he thought another person supported him, but he was wrong. His mother tried, but she just couldn't grasp her son. She loved him unconditionally, but she never could give much support to her troubled boy. Roger didn't believe himself to be troubled, but if the entire world did, what was he to think? Still, he didn't care. He _couldn't_ care.

"What's this place?" asked Roger, as Freddie pulled him into an off the beaten path alcove. "Are we not eating lunch?"

"It's our secret. Roger Taylor, welcome to our high school's very own band of misfits. Literally," he chuckled, guiding Roger into a secluded room.

The blue-eyed beauty widened his drowsy gaze to soak in the contents of the room, which was just slightly larger than the small classrooms he had seen so far. Freddie slinked past him and raised his arms in the air.

"Voila! We turned this abandoned conference room into a safe space. Over to the left, here is our resident guitar playing, science loving, animal rights activist with big hair, Brian May. Brian, meet the oddity I told you about earlier, Roger Taylor," introduced Freddie, waving the tall boy over.

Brian was dressed in a very tight fitting, long-sleeved, striped shirt with lines of light purple, dark purple, and magenta. A black, beaded necklace looped around his neck three times to complement his long, deep brown curls. His magnificent smile lit up the room.

He reached out to shake Roger's hand and said, "Nice outfit. I can't believe I didn't spot you in the hallway."

"Thanks. I like yours too. You play guitar?" asked Roger.

Brian nodded. "It's my favorite instrument. Do you play anything?"

"Drums. I've played them for as long as I can remember. What about you, Freddie? Do you play anything?" questioned Roger.

"Darling, I am a piano god. Also, I sing like a choir of trained songbirds. Deaky, get over here!" he shouted, motioning to the back of the room.

Roger spun around to catch his eyes on a smaller boy sitting cross-legged at the end of a sofa. A bass guitar was propped up next to him, but his eyes were lost in a book. The boy had slightly longer hair than the rest of them. His was light brown and had a gentle wave travelling throughout it. The fringe at the top of his forehead was choppy, yet also neat.

"Huh?" he asked, peeking over the edge of his book. "Oh.."

The boy's voice was as light and as soft as a feather. He didn't move from his place right away, but after a few more seconds, he set his book down in his spot and dusted off his black button up that had a star-printed collar and matching cuffs. His shirt was tucked into high-waisted blue jeans.

"Roger Taylor, meet John Deacon, the love of my life," declared Freddie, wrapping his arms around John. "We call him Deaky."

"Nice.. to meet you, John. How long have you and Freddie been dating?"

Brian started laughing with a wholesome chuckle that made Roger smile, though he didn't understand why the tall fellow found humor in his simple question. Roger faced Freddie and shrugged. Meanwhile, Deaky was madly blushing.

"Oh, puh-lease!" exclaimed Freddie, whipping his hair back. "Deaky is not my type. We're just platonic soulmates. Nothing more. Don't you know what that feels like?"

Roger didn't have a proper answer. "Not exactly. I was in love, once upon a time, but I've never had a.. best friend like that. Never mind that. My mistake," he murmured. To save the moment, Roger lowered his eyelids and smirked at Deaky. "By God, you're prettier than me!"

"Pardon?" asked John, his cheeks only becoming rosier.

The way Deaky's thin lips dipped down in the center made Roger's own lips tingle, though he couldn't explain why. There were light freckles on the bridge of his nose, but one had to be less than a foot away from him to see. A few, light pink acne scars were spread out across his chin and cheeks, but they were nothing short of beautiful.

Roger collected himself and added, "You've the tiniest gap between your front teeth."

"Have I?" John questioned, reaching a hand up to hide his mouth.

"Don't cover it up! That's the cutest thing I have ever seen," he proclaimed.

Brian shook his head and stepped in. "Out of everyone in the room that the blond beauty could have chosen to fall for, it had to be the quietest, least expressive person. Good luck to you, Roger. Deaky doesn't warm up to people that easily."

Roger rolled his eyes, but Freddie came to his defense. "Hush up, Bri. If you want to tag along with us while you get to know your way around and come in contact with the local predators just itching to find another fem boy to walk all over, you are welcome to. Once you get to know John, I'm sure he'll learn to love you. Not as much as he loves me, but.. somewhat."

"I hope so because I'm almost one hundred percent certain that I need you in my life. You take my breath away," declared Roger, swooning.

He was exceptional at making people drool and go all gaga for him, but Deaky didn't seem to be having it. The long-haired boy did crack a bit of a smile, but that was all.

"Who knows?" started Freddie, collapsing in a beanbag chair next to the couch where John's bass was sitting. "We could all end up being best friends."

Roger, though he had his doubts, grinned and placed himself on an empty, wooden rocking chair. The blond had never had a solid group of friends, but he would give it a try. Brian ambled on back to the desk chair he was originally in and picked up his guitar. Deaky's eyes were buried back in his book, while Freddie's were closed. Brian plucked a few strings while Deaky mindlessly hummed. Roger began to tap his foot, not really noticing how oblivious his new peers were to the scene unfolding in their safe space.

True, at the time, Roger didn't have high hopes that this would ever work out, but that was three months ago.


	2. Play The Game

Soft snowflakes lightly fell from the sky, unbothered since the lack of wind could not stir them up. The intricate specks broke apart as they touched against John's rosy cheeks, but a select few kept shape as they gathered in his long eyelashes. John reached his hand out to let them collect in his palm like a little mound of priceless diamond shavings. He spread his arms out and spun around, letting the snow fly from his body as his red, lace-up boots with a chunky heel, stolen from Roger, carried him through a fluid motion. John's smile stretched across his face, exposing his teeth while he pivoted in place again.

The sky overhead was silky and grey, but beautiful all at the same time. Roger never knew of such a relaxed feeling like the one that being alone with Deaky gave him. Sure, it was extremely cold, but the brunette beauty's presence warmed Roger's exposed fingertips.

"Hey, look," John said, his voice airy and cheeky. Roger stepped in front of John, but before he spoke, John blew his pile of snowflakes at Roger. "Gotcha!"

Roger grinned while rolling his eyes and thrusting his numb hands into the pockets of his jeans. Deaky wasn't only just wearing Roger's favorite pair of boots, but he was also wearing Roger's black cardigan that had flower print in white. To be fair, he looked quite cute in the blond's clothes.

Over the past three months, Roger had really made himself at home. Things had drastically changed in his life. For the first time, he had real friends that stuck beside him through each day. Meeting Freddie was the best thing that had ever happened to him. The feminine boy had shown him a world of love and acceptance with his two other friends. Now, they were a group of boys just trying to find themselves out in a school full of hateful halfwits.

Freddie was their leader, their glue. He was brave and bold, and he rarely let things get to him. Freddie showed his spectrum of emotions through song and piano. He had style and grace and could make one feel like they were worth more than the moon. Freddie was a true gem full of compassion and undying love. He was great at comforting, which was probably why Deaky stuck so close to him.

Brian was like their mum friend. He kept the boys in line and could always talk his way out of confrontation when someone pestered him or one of the other guys. Brian was such a natural at just about anything he tried, including but not limited to shredding the guitar and figuring out unsolved mysteries of the universe. He was still working on that last bit, but Roger didn't doubt that he would go far in his quest to understand their insignificant universe.

Deaky was the baby. He was fragile, quiet, and still very afraid to join the rest of his friends in expressing themselves through femininity, though he was already very feminine without makeup and flashy clothes. The boy cared about his studies, his bass, and his Freddie more than anything else. Roger had come to learn that Deaky was quite talkative around his friends if you really got him invested in the topic of conversation. He was useless in defending himself and often ended up with bloody noses. To Roger's demise, Deaky rarely told who was causing him trouble.

Roger was the rebellious fiend, always finding himself caught up in a verbal or physical fight, usually defending his or his friends' honors. He viewed himself as the sexy one, though Freddie would contradict that statement. Roger could mostly be found making a sick joke, banging away at a drumkit, or flirting with a girl that hated herself for becoming turned on by a boy in lipstick. He had that effect on all people, not just girls. The rest of his friends found his erotic behavior repulsive because they all knew Roger wasn't looking to date. There was only one person on his mind.

The Four Fem Fucks, as their lovely peers at school had dubbed them, were going to spend the weekend staying at Brian's house. His parents were out of town for three days, so the boys were taking over and setting up shop. Brian's place was nice anyways, and they always appreciated when his folks invited them over for dinner.

"Rog, come here!" called the younger boy, snapping Roger from his headspace.

Roger turned his focus to John. "What, Deaky?" he asked, staying cautious to avoid another round of snowflakes getting blown into his face.

"Look into my eyes," he softly demanded.

"Mmm, they're gorgeous, but what else is new?"

Deaky blushed, let out a sigh, and said, "There is snow in my eyelashes."

Roger nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I noticed. If I had a camera on me, I'd take a picture and hang it above my bed," he declared.

"It's so ethereal out here," Deaky commented, totally disregarding Roger's statement.

It really was otherworldly in the perfectly calm and empty environment. The barren trees were coated in serene white, and not another human disturbed their moment. Roger loved being one-on-one with his quiet friend more than anything. Sure, he loved Freddie and Brian, but they had flashy personalities and always spoke their minds, unlike John. He would much rather have his nose in a book or fingers on a bass. Anything to get out of conversation.

Around Roger, Deaky had grown to show more of himself. It took a lot of reassurance from Roger, but after the first month, the two had really bonded on an emotional level. They were wildly different in just about every single way possible, but they worked so well. The blond had never really felt the way he did about anyone besides Deaky. He was such a change of pace. The people Roger used to hang with were living headaches, always looking for their next bottle of vodka and another desperate sap to makeout with.

When it came to Deaky, the boy was good for getting _rid_ of headaches. Roger could just relax. He didn't have to strategically plan his next move to make himself seem like he was more than what he actually was. Maybe John was really the only person that could appreciate Roger without expectations. It was nice to let his guard down once in awhile, but only around the soft-spoken bassist.

Roger stepped in front of Deaky. "Close your eyes," he instructed.

Deaky didn't hesitate to obey. Roger studied his narrow face, just barely able to spot some blush dusted onto his already red nose. Yes, it was that cold. Deaky used makeup sparingly, for fear of his tormentors hunting him down like the game he was.

"Why am I closing my eyes?" John asked.

"I just wanted to gaze at you without you turning away. Let's get to Bri's house before the sun goes down."

Roger didn't even wait to see Deaky's reaction before heading off down the frozen sidewalk. The brunette was quick to join his side, sticking close to Roger as he shuddered. Neither of them had a winter coat on, and Roger's cardigan couldn't have been keeping Deaky too warm.

When they finally arrived at Brian's house, Freddie hopped up from his place, racing over to envelop Deaky in his long arms. Brian was standing in the doorway that connected the living room to the kitchen while sipping a mug of tea.

"What took you so long? We were beginning to think you two were blowing us off to run away together!" declared Freddie, rubbing his hands up and down John's back.

"Running away with Deaky would be impossible. He'd get scared two minutes into the journey and demand we turn around," fired Roger, stealing a drink from Brian's lemon and honey tea.

Deaky rolled his eyes, wrapping his chilled fingers around the mug next. "We wouldn't make it far in the cold. Plus, the sun has nearly set," he reasoned.

"If this get's anymore boring, I'll be asleep in five seconds! Let's play a stripping or drinking game before I _die!"_ exclaimed Freddie.

"Can we eat first? I'm bloody famished," Roger groaned.

Freddie smirked. "Good luck finding anything appetizing to eat."

"What do you mean?" asked the blond.

The black-haired beauty eyed Brian. "Bri is a vegetarian. Animal lover to the max. Isn't that right, ya big softie?" questioned Freddie.

Brian stuck his tongue out and declared, "Buzz off, Fred. I've got plenty to snack on, Rog."

"Deaky eats his healthy shit just to be polite, even though he turns green afterwards," Freddie laughed, holding a hand to his stomach as he giggled.

"Hush up!" John demanded, frowning.

Roger raised a finger to his unpainted lips and lowered his eyelids. "Let's stay civil, queens. Now, I'm all for getting on nerves and making Deaky livid for a quick chuckle, but I'm really hungry. Can we get some takeaway and change out of our tight clothes first?" he practically begged.

"I think you're the only one wearing tight clothes.." muttered Brian.

"Hold on! I think Roger is right.. for once. Bri, order us some food, and I'll go raid the wine cellar. Roger, you can take your dangerously tight jeans off to save our eyes, and Deaky, feel free to tag along with your lover boy," commanded Freddie, striking a pose as his bold voice gave instructions. "Now, queens!"

Deaky raised his eyebrows. "My lover boy?"

Brian practically sighed while striding over to the rotary telephone. "The blond, clearly," he affirmed.

Freddie slipped out of the room in search of alcohol, leaving Roger and Deaky side by side. "Well, come on. My legs are falling asleep from these jeans," Roger griped.

The two meandered on down the hallway to Brian's room where they had their own separate bags of clothes to last them through the weekend. In typical Four Fem Fucks fashion, suitcases were more necessary to lug around their ostentatious jackets, high-heeled boots, and plethora of makeup and jewelry. Roger immediately began stripping down, but John waited until Roger had turned around before removing any of his clothes.

"What? Don't want me to see your bum?" Rog asked, pulling a thin tee-shirt over his head.

"Something like that," the younger boy murmured.

When it was safe to look again, there was a clear difference in their clothing. Deaky was dressed in flannel pyjama pants with an oversized long-sleeve shirt, while Roger's shirt was ungodly see through and skin tight. Plus, his bottoms didn't even reach midway down his thighs. To top off his look, he was wearing knee socks.

"You're going to freeze!" exclaimed Deaky. Only he would make a comment like that. Everyone else would stutter and start drooling over the sight of the attractive boy, but John could only focus on his comfort. "Do you want to borrow some of my pyjamas?"

Rog rolled his baby blues and hooked a finger under his leather choker. It made the short necklace grasp his throat a bit harder, but he didn't mind at all. He softly clicked his tongue while shaking his head. Just to spice it up, he ruffled his shaggy hair and winked.

"Silly, silly, silly. Most things I do have purpose. Now, shall we join the boys before I resort to cannibalism and take a nibble out of you?" asked Roger, bending over to push just one of his socks down.

"Fair enough," John replied, trailing after him.

Back in the living room, Freddie was laying out a blanket and setting wine glasses on top. Brian picked up a glass after Freddie had poured a fair amount of red wine and sat down on the floor. The black-haired boy waved them over and pushed a fragile glass into Roger's hand. He bobbed his eyebrows and clinked their glassware together.

"Drink up, darling. We're going to play a game," whispered Freddie.

A coy smile took hold of Roger's lips while he sipped the bitter liquid. Brian traded out his tea for wine, delightedly taking a swig. The other three boys surely gave him a constant migraine that only alcohol could cure. Freddie had already downed one glass while alternating between drinks from a freshly poured one and from the wine bottle itself. John was the only one left without wine.

Roger turned to him and snidely commented, "What? Afraid your mum will find out you've been drinking with the big kids?"

"Roger Taylor, is that any damn way to treat our youngest friend?" Brian scolded, gently smiling at the blushing boy. "No pressure, Deaks. Fred and I know you don't drink. Plus, Rog, you are a year younger than Fred and me, so you fall in the same boat as him!"

"Now, you know too, Rog. See, you're one of us now. Deaky doesn't drink. We don't bring it up. You shouldn't bring it up either," demanded Freddie, wrapping his dainty fingers around the bottle's neck as he tossed his head back and swallowed.

The blond rolled his eyes. "I need nicotine."

"Nonsense! We haven't even begun the game! You can smoke later, whiny boy. Now, we want to play-" began Freddie.

"I fucking said I _need_ nicotine, dammit! Start your bloody game without me. I'm having a fuckin' smoke," he fired, trekking over to an abandoned pack of cigarettes on an end table.

Roger ripped a slim stick from it's confining package and flicked his metal lighter until a flame appeared. No more than a few seconds later, the ember glowed at the end of his cigarette to produce an irresistibly dangerous cherry. He gave one final glare to Freddie before stomping out onto Brian's porch and slamming the door behind him. He didn't care that he was in skimpy pyjamas in the freezing cold or that his shoes were inside the house because he was unnecessarily angry. Roger shot back the rest of his wine and plunked his cold bum down on the steps.

"How was I supposed to know the little Year Ten didn't drink?" he mumbled to himself, taking his first puff. Roger eyed the curl of grey silk that spun through the air before he breathed out and added a heavier amount of smoke. He didn't mind the carcinogens any more or less than every other teenager that enjoyed a good cigarette every now and then did. "Bloody boy doesn't do anything cool. He's practically _useless!"_

"Useless? You are blind as all hell, darling. John Deacon is the single most useful person that I have ever come across, and you know it too. Don't even try to deny it," Freddie demanded.

Roger jumped up from his spot and shouted, "Christ! I didn't even know you were out here." All's Freddie did was smile in response. "I didn't mean what I said.."

"You have quite a temper, don't you? I mean, you just snapped over finding out that Deaky doesn't drink. Care to explain?"

He shook his head. "I was just nippish for my nicotine. That's all," Roger reasoned.

Freddie sighed and refilled Roger's empty glass. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you're jealous of him," he remarked.

"Jealous of what?" questioned the blond, rising to his feet and blowing a lungful of smoke into Freddie's face.

Freddie grabbed ahold of Roger's cigarette and crushed it under the heel of his boot before saying, "That's what I intend on figuring out. Now, let's play the game."

Roger took a deep breath and reluctantly followed the fair boy back inside Brian's house. Freddie immediately strutted down the hall, most likely to put his pyjamas on. Brian was already in his. He and John were sitting on the blanket while quietly talking to each other. Roger gathered himself and placed a hand loosely on his hip. He quickly ran his other hand through his hair and made sure his eyelids were seductively low.

"Can you make room for another, pretty boys?" he asked, lowering his voice.

Brian nodded, scooting over. "Feeling less like an asshole, are you?"

"Bri, I will deck you," Roger threatened, hazily gazing at Deaky as he drank his wine.

"Alright, queens!" shouted Freddie, from down in Brian's room. He stepped in the doorway a few moments later. "We're ready."

Roger finished his second glass and hiccupped. "What game are we playing?"

"Truth or dare. I'll ask first!" he exclaimed, sitting between Deaky and Brian, but across from Roger. "Roger, darling, truth or dare?"

"Dare, obviously," the blond snorted, pouring more wine into his glass.

Freddie smirked and eyed him down. "I dare you to switch clothes with Deaky. Yes, that includes your sacred neck squeezer that you never seem to take off. God knows you're not getting enough oxygen."

Deaky shook his head and defended, "It's not my turn! That's unfair."

"You're fair game, darling. Now, strip down," ordered Freddie, sipping from the bottle.

The brunette rolled his eyes as his cheeks turned pink. "Now, I'll be the one who's freezing out of their mind.."

Roger pulled his tight, nearly transparent shirt over his head. "You'll be fine," he assured.

The blond didn't have any problem with tearing his itty-bitty shorts off and handing them to John. Once Roger's promiscuous pyjamas and knee socks were in John's hands, he scampered into the nearby kitchen to change in privacy.

"Tell me, Rog. Why do you insist on always showing off that tight piece of dead cow around your neck? Are you sure it isn't stuck there forever?" asked Brian.

"So, what did we order as takeaway? Shall I go pick some grass for our dear vegetarian to chomp on, or should I just make him into a choker as well?" Roger shot back.

Brian downed the wine in his glass and said, "I'll choke you, alright."

"Are you coming onto me? Sorry, Bri, but I'm not the least bit interested."

"Queens! Calm yourselves. Our lovely Deaky is back," gushed Freddie, motioning towards the doorway.

John was sheepishly standing with his hands behind his back. One of his knees was popped out, but he was shyly staring at the floor. He looked so nervous. Roger couldn't help but gasp at the beautiful Year Ten. He leaned back on his elbow and just kept watching as John started to close in on them.

"I don't like the way I feel," Deaky mumbled, flinging his pyjamas at Roger.

Roger momentarily tossed them aside and unhooked his choker. "Turn around, Deaky."

John faced away from the older boy, but the second Roger's cold fingertips touched his neck, he jumped. Roger clasped it in place and admired him once more. Before stepping back, he pushed just one of John's socks down. 

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"Come on, Deaky. You and I will get it," said Roger, ushering him towards the door.

"You haven't gotten any clothes on!" squeaked John, shivering. "And I barely do.."

Roger twisted the chilled handle and smiled at the young delivery boy holding a bag. Immediately, his mouth fell open. The blond winked at him. Meanwhile, John was having a miniscule fit next to him, doing all that he could to stop the stranger's eyes from landing on him.

"Bri! Where is the cash?" called Roger, eyeing down the boy in their doorway.

Brian ambled over, wine glass in hand, and placed the money in the boy's palm. "You've got the tip, right Rog?" he asked.

"Of course!" Roger scrunched up the boy's cheek in one hand and smirked. "My tip for you is to start wearing just a light shade of lip gloss or even tinted chapstick to make your ungodly pale lips not look like they have disappeared. It will totally dezombify you, handsome. Take care."

With that, Roger took the bag of takeaway and slammed the door in the stunned boy's face. Freddie immediately had a fit of laughter while Brian just smiled and went back to getting tipsy. Clearly, their leader was already there, and the other two drinking boys were on the fast track.

Deaky sighed and stole Roger's half-empty glass. "I think I'll start drinking right about now," he declared, grimacing as he forced the rest of the liquid down.

Roger threw on John's pyjamas, grinning the whole time, and said, "Wow, I think I like this game. Who's next?"

John refilled Roger's glass and planted himself back on the floor, seemingly defeated. Roger was quick to join him since he didn't want to miss a single second of what would happen next. Freddie shrugged and turned to Brian.

"You," Bri ordered, sitting back.

"Okay. Freddie, I choose you. Truth or dare?" he asked.

Freddie flicked the bottle and replied, "Truth."

"Are you a virgin?"

"Heavens no! I'd rather be dead than practice abstinence. Surely, you understand the feeling," he voiced.

Roger nodded, taking a sip from the glass that Deaky was now clutching on to. "Very much. I guess it's kind of different when you're in love, though. Having sex with only one person, the person that you love, is much different than sleeping around with people that don't mean a lick to you," he reasoned.

Now, everyone was staring.

"I guess we've never really been in love, have we boys? I'm no virgin, but I don't consider myself a slut either," responded Brian, moving his untamable curls from his eyes. "Are you a slut, Roger?"

"It's not your turn," Rog grumbled.

Freddie piped in with, "Brian, it's your go."

"I pick Roger. Roger picks truth. Are you a slut?" he asked.

"I guess so! Is that what you want to hear? I've been with like ten girls ever since I moved here," uttered the blond.

Deaky raised an eyebrow. "You have?"

"Mmm, he's rebounding. You were in love, correct?" asked Freddie.

Roger sighed and exclaimed, "It's not your turn!"

Freddie slammed the bottle down. "I get around. Brian does every now and again. Deaky's a virgin. You're a slut. Now, tell me this, Mr. Taylor. Who were you in love with and why did they hurt you so much?"

"Her name is Maxim!" shouted Roger, forcing everyone to go silent. "She dumped me in August after an unfortunate series of events. Long story short, I got into a huge fight and was sent away again. I was in love with her, but she didn't accept me! If I wish to fuck every last girl in our school because of it, then I bloody will!" There was a long pause. "Who's next?"

"Me," whispered Deaky, finally looking at Roger.

Now, everyone turned their attention to the quietest one of them. Freddie, who always had something to say, wasn't even giggling, let alone, making a snide remark. Brian's hand was turning ghostly white from clutching his wine glass, waiting for what would happen next.

"Roger, truth or dare?" he asked.

"Truth.." the blond murmured.

John rested his thin face on his dainty hands and eyed Roger down. "Did Maxim break your heart?" he questioned, in the softest tone.

Roger nodded, feeling the pit in his stomach begin to expand and swallow him whole. His tongue and lips couldn't agree on anything to say, so he stayed silent. John's puppy eyes had a glint of sympathy in them, but Roger forced himself to look away.

"Well, I'm tipsy out of my mind. Who's hungry?" asked Freddie, clapping his hands together and prancing over to the forlorn bag of grub.

"I am!" cheerily exclaimed Brian, trying to dissipate some of the building tension. 

Freddie rolled his eyes at Brian's help and began searching through their order. He pulled out four containers of Chinese food, one for each of the boys. John tried smiling at Roger, but it was clearly forced. The younger boy surely didn't know how to act when things got awkward, and Roger could have saved it, but he simply didn't feel like it. Maybe another glass of wine would help.

"Sautéed veggies for our resident herbivore. The rest of us can divvy up the good stuff," said Freddie, handing each boy a pair of chopsticks, along with a fortune cookie in a plastic wrapper.

"You're missing out, Fred," assured Brian, taking his vegetarian meal.

Deaky picked up the wine glass and downed more of the wine, though the look on his face didn't show joy in his actions. Roger almost smiled, but he kept his expression blank.

"Oh, come on. I know you'd rather have cheese on toast with a cup of tea, but it's nice to be adventurous every now and again. Wine and Chinese together is a luxury. Why don't you step out of your two meter wide comfort zone for five seconds, Deaks?" suggested Roger, quiet enough for only him to hear.

John let himself grin a tiny bit and nodded, scooting closer to the blond, and muttered, "Okay."

With that, the four boys grouped back up to stuff their faces and finish the borrowed wine from Brian's parent's wine cellar. Surely, they wouldn't miss it. John didn't eat nearly as much as the others, but he tried all that Freddie had ordered and drank at least one more full glass of wine by stealing drinks from Roger. By the end of their meal, the sun had dipped well below the horizon line, leaving the night sky in its place. 

"Let's keep playing the game!" begged Freddie, popping a mint into his mouth from a small tin. He offered it to the others, and they all accepted a compact cooling crystal. "Brian, you go."

"Deaky, truth or dare?" asked Brian, biting right into his mint.

John giggled and replied, "Dare."

"I dare you to.." Brian paused and smirked at Roger. "..lick your hand and rub it on Rog's face."

Deaky laughed and shook his head. Roger raised an eyebrow and shrugged, leaning towards him with dilated pupils. He waited, but nothing happened.

"Well, go ahead. We don't have all night," Roger declared.

"Really?" asked John.

Roger slowly nodded and winked, trying not to focus on the other boys. There was only a slight moment of hesitation before John ran his tongue over the length of his hand and wiped his saliva across Roger's cheeks and lips.

"Minty," commented the blond, clicking his tongue.

"Boring!" exclaimed Freddie, faking a yawn. "I want to see some real action."

Roger deviously chuckled. "I'll give you action."

Freddie pulled Roger's signature move of lowering his lids and asked, "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," he proclaimed, in a sing-song tone.

The black-haired boy, still rocking perfectly sharp eyeliner after a long day of school and bright red nail polish that never seemed to chip, placed a hand on Roger's covered chest and demanded, "Kiss me."

Roger was just barely able to catch John's smile falter as he wasted no time in stealing Freddie's inviting lips. Their eyes closed as their tongues searched around for the backs of their throats. The two boys hungrily made out, seemingly not finding an end to their unrelenting quest of lust until someone knocked Roger right at the base of his skull. He jumped and bit down onto Freddie's bottom lip.

"Hey! What was that for?" asked Roger, turning to see that Deaky was the culprit.

"I don't want to play anymore," John groaned, laying down on his back.

Freddie crawled over next to his best friend and spread out beside him. "Shame. It was just getting fun," he complained.

Roger almost felt bad for Deaky's reaction, but his empathy turned to sourness quicker than usual. The blond smacked away Brian's hand that found his shoulder and leaned over Deaky.

"What? Don't want me kissing your boyfriend? Oh wait, you're not his type," chimed Roger.

"Leave the lad alone, Rog. It's been a long week, and he just drank wine for the first time in his life. Give your shenanigans a rest for one bloody night," demanded Brian, beginning to pick up their empty food containers and knocked over glasses.

The fiery tempered boy backed off of Deaky, but not before Roger casted him a subtle glare. For a reason that he couldn't quite understand, Roger almost _wished_ that maybe John was jealous that he wasn't the one being violently kissed as if the world depended on it. Hell, he didn't even know if Deaky had been kissed before. Roger could bet that he was inexperienced and shy, but his intrusive thoughts got the best of him. The blond really wouldn't mind being dared to stick his tongue down the Year Ten's throat. Too bad the game was over.

"I'm drowsy," Deaky mumbled, clearly annoyed. "I'm ready to go to sleep."

Freddie gingerly parted the short bangs on John's forehead and smiled down at his sweet best friend. "Soon, darling. Why don't you and the human firecracker go switch clothes while Bri and I clean up?"

Brian sighed and helped Freddie to his feet while muttering, "I take it that means I do the work while you blow dish soap bubbles into my hair?"

"Oh, get on with it. This is why you're my least favourite!" shouted Freddie, nudging the taller boy into the kitchen.

"If I'm your least favourite, then what is Rog?" asked Brian.

Roger rolled his icy orbs and glanced back to Deaky, who was staring up at the ceiling, not paying a lick of attention to the blond. He tended to do that when he was upset with Roger. Their bassist friend was sensitive and didn't like drama, so when he was not happy with one of them, usually Rog, he stayed perfectly still and avoided all eye contact. It was quite pitiful, truthfully. Roger had watched him handle bullies that way.

"I was only teasing, you goose," Rog affirmed, poking John in his side.

"I don't like Freddie like that," Deaky defended, refusing to look at him.

Roger nodded, rising to his feet and outstretching a hand to him. "I believe you. I don't either."

"You don't?" gasped John.

The blond shook his head, leading the other boy to Brian's room. It was completely dark in the bedroom, apart from a single streetlamp that leaked in a bit of its artificial light. In the dim glow, Roger could make out a faint smile on Deaky's lips. That was all he needed.

"Alright, I'll turn around so that you can undress-" began Roger.

"You.. don't have to. It's dark.. and all," reasoned John, beginning to remove his shirt. Well, Roger's shirt.

Roger grinned and pulled off Deaky's pyjamas before saying, "I hope you didn't get too cold."

"I was fine. The wine helped warm me up. I didn't like the taste, though."

Roger tugged his booty shorts back on a second after they had left John's body. "Why did you drink it then?" he questioned.

"I guess I wanted to be more like you. I mean, I was already wearing your clothes and your windpipe smasher, which I really should be giving back now. I just wish I had your confidence and.. spunk. You are everything I want to be," John admitted.

"John, I am not one worth striving to become. You need to be your own person. What's stopping you?" he asked, moving Deaky's hair over to one shoulder in order to unclasp the choker.

The brunette shrugged in return and mumbled, "Fear. Shame"

The older boy cupped Deaky's cheeks in his hands without warning. He gently stroked the pads of his thumbs along the smooth skin while gazing down into those greenish-grey eyes. Roger had never found someone quite as pretty as he found Deaky. There was just something about his cheeky, little grins and the way his hair framed his thin face that made Roger giddy. Roger knew that he himself was a lush creature of undeniable beauty, but Deaky was effortlessly perfect in a not-so-perfect way.

"You've nothing to fear. If anyone says anything, I'll break their fingers," he assured, letting his touch linger before his hands fell back to his sides. "I was just like you at one point, Deaky. I was terrified and repulsed by my craving to put on makeup, flash my jewelry, and feel up boys. I cried every single night because I was so ashamed of myself for wanting to be feminine and present myself as such. I broke free, and it took so much from me, but I've never been happier than I am when I'm being myself. You should let me do your makeup sometime. Sometime when we're completely alone."

John didn't say anything right away. His bottom lip quivered once, but he was silent. Then, he took Roger in for a hug and wrapped his frail arms around Roger's shoulders. They stood like that in the soft, velvety darkness of Brian's small room until they heard footsteps echoing through the quiet hallway. When John pulled back, the older winked at him once more.

"Well, queens, it's been another week of living in fake paradise. Tomorrow, we'll wreak some more havoc, but for now, it's time for beauty rest," declared Freddie, reaching his arms high into the air as he yawned for real this time.

"Rog, you don't mind sleeping on the floor with me, do you? Fred wants the bed, and we both know Deaks will want to be right next to him," noted Brian.

Roger smiled and dropped right on his bottom. Brian's room was not carpeted, but rather, it had hardwood flooring. Still, the blond had slept in worse places. He didn't mind cozying up next to the guitar playing fuzz head anyways. Freddie climbed into Bri's bed, taking the spot nearest to the wall, and motioned for Deaky to lay next to him.

"Goodnight, my love," Freddie cooed, tenderly pressing his lips against Deaky's temple before turning to face the wall.

Brian handed Roger a pillow and blanket after spreading out a comforter across the floor. Rog lined his body adjacently to the bed and covered himself up, already becoming chilled from the frigid air of Brian's room. The curly-haired boy settled down next to him, and before barely ten minutes could pass, he and Freddie were zonked out. Roger thought everyone but himself was asleep, but soon after he made that assumption, a pair of eyes were staring down at him from the bed.

"Is this heaven?" muttered Roger.

"Tell me about Maxim," quietly demanded John, careful not to wake one of their slumbering friends.

Roger didn't expect that punch to the gut. Still, he asked, "What do you want to know?'

John shrugged. "Anything. Everything. What was she like? Why did you break up?"

"I thought Maxim Nymph was the best thing that'd ever happened to me. I thought she was the supreme love of my life. Max was so badass and hardcore. She wore leather jackets, spiked boots, and had a pixie haircut. I met her halfway through Year Nine when I transferred schools for the second time over a stupid fight that got blamed on me," he explained, lowering his voice.

Deaky blinked his puppy eyes. "Keep going," he ordered.

"She came into my life before I started questioning my gender and sexuality. Before I became such a.. such a queen. Little by little, I got into the flashy and finer things. She accepted me. Er, I thought she did. And then, I crossed the line. Max let me go after that, and I cried for two weeks straight."

There was barely a pause before Deaky questioned, "What could you have possibly done that made her.. give up on you?"

Roger didn't want to answer him. Truthfully, he didn't know how. He'd never told anyone the reason why he'd gotten expelled from his previous school or why Maxim had broken his heart. It all felt too personal to share, and until now, Roger didn't trust anyone with his privacy. It was dark and cold in the cramped room, and the blond boy was so drowsy that he could see little comets swirling around in his messy canvas eyes. It was finally time to reveal his big secret.

"Life was perfect. Max and I were two dazed teens in nicotine infused love. We shared our hopes, dreams, and doubts. We would have sex until the sun rose into the sky each morning. One day, Max left a bra at my house. I found it under my bed and.. tried it on," admitted Roger, feeling himself tense up. "I'd never looked so irresistible. The little, pink thing had no pads. It was just tight and lacy with a little bow in the center. I swear, I looked at myself in the mirror for a solid hour."

When Deaky averted eye contact, Roger found himself not being able to pause. If he did quit talking, even for just a few breaths, he might let his temper get the best of him and never open up to his younger friend again. So, he knew that he had to keep going.

"It was one of the very first days back to school in August. I wore the damn bra under my clothes, but I totally forgot about it. As I was changing for gym class, a group of asshats cornered me, and I panicked. They.. they.. ripped it off of my body as I kicked and screamed.. and begged. I threw punches and clawed at faces. I was so hysterical and seething that I broke one of the boys' jaws. Maxim found out immediately. I got booted from school. She said that our breakup was a long time coming and that she couldn't be with a boy that.. thought he was a girl," finished Roger, trying not to let his voice crack under pressure.

There was an unbearable silence that crystallized in the space between the two boys, and the older immediately regretted spilling his guts. Why did he expect the other to understand? Deaky was simple and pitiful, so he surely shouldn't have thought that the brunette would feel for him. Why did he say what he was afraid to tell everyone? Why would Roger talk about his one downfall? Why would he blow his confidence just to appease a nobody like John Deacon?

Before Roger realized what was happening, Deaky's smaller, colder hand was slipping into one of Roger's. The younger squeezed Roger's hand and trailed his delicate fingers over the older's knuckles. It was an effortless gesture, but the touch held so much more meaning. Was it acceptance? Roger had never had that. He was the only one that accepted himself, and that was all he thought he needed. That was, until, John had clutched his appendage and gave Roger the solace that he never knew he needed. If it wasn't for all of the arrogance that he had to uphold, he would have sobbed loud and hard.

"You're so cold," whispered Roger, breathing onto John's hand and tenderly rubbing it.

"Freddie's hogging the blanket," he clarified, surely relishing in the small amount of transferred body heat.

Roger tossed his luscious hair back and quietly stood up from his makeshift sleeping bag. His joints popped in the process, but other than that, he was but a breath in the night. The blond took the fluffy blanket that was previously swaddling his body and covered John in the warmth. Though Roger was barely dressed and already beginning to freeze, he didn't mind sacrificing his comfort to make sure Deaky had all of it. As soon as he laid back down next to Brian's occupied bed, their hands rejoined.

"Thank you," mouthed John, his eyes falling shut.

Roger let himself succumb to the wave of tiredness that had been trying so desperately to wash over his being ever since they'd decided it was time for slumber. Now, with the areas of bareness on his legs and arms becoming covered in winter frost, the blond could feel his eyelashes weigh down as they were coated in hexagonal snowflakes, just like the ones Deaky had blown at him earlier. The layers of snow packed down onto his body and buried him. All was on frigid fire besides the limp hand clutched in Roger's own. What he would give to never have to let him go ever again.


	3. Now I'm Here

Roger didn't _mean_ for it to happen. In fact, he only had a vague recollection of _how_ it happened. It was a brief, drowsy conversation of utter simplicity that snowballed into something more. Now, he was standing on a rickety, wooden chair in John Deacon's small bedroom on Christmas Eve while stringing fairy lights along the tops of the walls. He had never expected to become so attached to the easily overlookable boy that enjoyed strumming his bass and reading science fiction novels. So, how did it happen? How did Roger get to the point of standing on that creaky chair just to bring the stars inside for his special friend?

It was the first morning of the Four Fem Fucks taking over Brian's house, and each of them had headaches, some to greater extents than others. Freddie was groaning at the kitchen table, unable to be stopped as he poured steaming coffee down his throat. Brian was humming away while folding laundry, having just scarfed down pain meds and put on a brave face. Deaky was slumped over on the tile, though Roger couldn't understand why. He'd barely had two glasses of wine. Rog had a dull headache, pounding deep within his skull.

"I hate being alive," Freddie whined, banging a dainty fist on the table.

"Shh, we know. You've said it six times!" cheered Brian, keeping his smile as he meticulously folded.

Roger couldn't help but smile at the beacon of positivity that was Brian May. He was always bright and kind, no matter what the situation was. Roger envied him for being able to keep his cool, but at the same time, it made him truly enjoy Brian. Maybe they would end up as better friends as the years passed. He had to hope.

"Come, Fred. I'll let you lay your head in my lap while I rub your forehead," suggested Bri, taking the basket of clothes down the hallway. 

Freddie groaned and picked himself up, trailing after Brian like an unmotivated zombie. Now that just left Roger, still in his skimpy pyjamas, and John, hugging himself on the floor. The tired blond sighed and let himself drop to the ground, next to his destroyed friend. Roger gathered the long, brunette locks up and tied them with a stray ponytail holder so that he could see John's face.

"Earth to Deaky!" Roger exclaimed, scrunching up his nose. "Do you want me to massage your temples? Bri's busy with the other patient."

John gently smiled but made no further gesture. Roger lightly shook his head and let Deaky's hair fall back into place. It softly flowed around his small shoulders in such an innocent way that gave Roger chills. The younger boy was clearly in pain. Maybe it wasn't much, but pain was pain, and if this was Deaky's first hangover, he probably didn't feel exactly pleasant.

Roger lifted john to his feet and spun around to fill an empty glass under the tap before saying, "Drink this water. All of it. It will help you more than anything. Let's take your mind off of side effects. Are you excited for Christmas?"

"Mmm, yes," responded John, lapping the water up like he hadn't had a drink since the fall. "Are you?"

"I don't do much for Christmas. Mum always works, and she isn't exactly on good terms with her side of the family. I never met my father, so I don't know his side. What are you doing this year?" he asked, pulling out a chair for John.

Deaky looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry.. My family always has a cozy celebration. Presents, hot cocoa with candy canes and whipped cream around the fireplace, and stuff like that. It's lovely," he explained, finishing off his water. "You.. could join us if you wanted to.. I mean, Brian and Freddie will be busy with their families, most likely out of town. You don't have to come, though. Maybe you'd rather be alone. Maybe-"

"Hush!" Roger demanded, cutting him off completely. "I would be honored to join you, Deaky. That would mean the entire world to me."

John looked up and met the pair of alluringly blue eyes in front of him. His thin lips drew together in a subtle smile, saying all that was needed to be said. They were going to spend a calm and lovely Christmas together at the Deacon household.

When Christmas break arrived, though, Roger ended up staying the first night. He hunkered down in the petite guest room and was welcomed by John's parents. He woke up to a homecooked breakfast with John and his two folks. They seemed to take interest in Roger right away. Then, he stayed another night, falling right to sleep in the warm, comfy guest bed. Now, it was Christmas Eve, and he had stayed there every single day and night of their holiday break.

"How does that look?" asked Roger, breaking himself out of the trance of his memories.

Deaky looked up from his book and gazed in awe at the sight Roger had created especially for him. With a cheeky grin, he scrambled up from his bedsheets and over to turn off his desk lamp. It gave the fairy lights a more illuminating glow that captivated Roger's whole being. He imagined that his friend felt the same way.

After the blond safely made it back to the ground, he and John sat back on John's bed to drink up the scene together. Roger found it more beautiful to watch Deaky in his state of concentration and disbelief as he eyed the artificial sky.

"Thank you," John breathily stated, returning his glimmering orbs to Roger. "This is the best Christmas present I could've gotten."

Roger shook his head. "There is more to come tomorrow. It's not Christmas yet, you egg."

"More? I don't need more!" Deaky declared, spreading out on his back.

"You deserve more. Plus, I'm sure the boys will be returning home in a few days bearing gifts as well. Just bask in the love, Deaks," ordered Rog, admiring the twinkling lights.

John smiled again, tangling his nimble fingers in Roger's wild head of hair. The gentle touch made Roger's heart feel warm. The Year Ten was so wholesome and sweet. He made sure not to move a single muscle while Deaky played around in his nest of blond. Plenty of girls had pulled the same maneuver on him more than once, but they never could produce the same effect that John could. Roger didn't stop breathing just to make sure he felt every little follicle get twisted or pulled with just anyone. It was only Deaky.

"I wish break would never end. Sure, I need to continue my studies, and I miss Freddie and Brian so much, but.. but I really like _this._ I hope I haven't been boring you out of your mind.." Deaky whimpered, blushing in the process.

"Boring me? You could never! I find myself absolutely enthralled just watching you practice bass. Or, when you get to a really good part in your book, you bite your bottom lip and sometimes your knuckles. Plus, when you get up to grab something across the room, you hum on the way over, and I find it all so interesting. I want to soak every detail of you up forever," Roger proclaimed, not missing a single beat. 

John untangled his straying hand and returned it back to his side, to Roger's demise. It seemed as though he didn't know what to say or didn't want to say anything at all. Either way, his cheeks were still dusty rose, and those big pupils of his were fully dilated. Roger found every aspect of his friend breathtaking.

"I just don't understand.." he breathed, covering his face with his hands. "You're the only person on earth that thinks this way of me. Why am I not invisible to you? You could have it all! You wear a face of makeup almost everyday, but the girls still want you. You aren't afraid to stand up to the jerks that push you around for being feminine. You're.. hot. So tell me why.. why you think I'm so extraordinary when I'm mediocre at fucking best!"

Deaky was not the type to swear. Roger knew that. He could hear pain in the younger boy's soft voice, but he was dumbfounded that the brunette could ever view himself like that. Roger only saw good things when he looked at his sweet John. His friend was a smart boy that could do just about everything twenty times more gracefully than Roger. John was untainted and coughed every time Roger smoked around him. He would gladly tutor anyone that didn't understand what was happening in class, whether that person would step on his neck for being different or not. John Deacon was good, something Roger was not.

Roger grabbed John's wrists and pried his hands from covering his precious face. He pinned John's arms down against his bed and stared at him with the most serious, half-lidded gaze he could muster.

"By the way you talk, I have no doubt in my mind that a person or multiple people have implanted that terrible view into your mind. What do they bully you for, huh? You're smarter than everyone. You are not average in any means, John. You stand out more to me than anyone ever has. No one will ever again have the opportunity to break you. You wanna know why? Because now, I'm here. I will spend eternity telling you that you are beautiful and worth it if that's what you need because I love every freckle on your nose and the way you hold your bass and the gap between your teeth and the uneven fringe on your forehead and the squeak to your voice and.. and every goddamn thing. Do you understand?" asked Roger, pouring his entire heart out.

Deaky's thin arms threaded out of Roger's grip and around his torso. The gentle, flower-esque boy held onto Roger tightly, almost shaking, and begged, "Roger, please never leave me.."

Roger stroked the back of Deaky's hair and desperately wished he could promise that. He didn't want to let him down, though. What if he ended up leaving? He always left. When Max couldn't take him, he left. He left every damn time things got hard.

"Boys! There's cocoa on the kitchen counter!" called Mrs. Deacon, startling the two out of each other's arms.

John was back to nervously blushing as they both made a beeline for the door. Roger couldn't understand why he loved feeling Deaky and made such an effort to assure him of his worth. They bustled into the dim kitchen and grabbed two mugs of cocoa. Each mug was piled high with swirled whipped cream, and a peppermint candy cane was stuck down into the foam. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Deacon were in sight. John and Roger were alone as they meandered to the living room where a towering Christmas tree shined. The fireplace was lit, flames crackling away in the hearth.

"Do you want to sit in front of the fire?" asked Roger, trying to spark conversation.

John only nodded, pitter-pattering across the room to knelt next to the inferno. Roger hesitantly joined him. It was almost as if he were afraid of the vulnerability John gave him. He didn't have a clear reason as to why he felt so defenseless.

Deaky looked at Roger in the glow of the firelight with a whipped cream moustache and asked, "Do I look cute?"

"You look good enough to eat," Roger purred, diving into his own drink.

The younger boy grinned, crow's feet carving into the corners of his eyes. "I like cocoa much more than wine."

"Good. Stay that way. I'd usually rather be drunk than anything else, but.. this is perfect. Clean fun. I like it," he declared, reaching his thumb out to John's face. "May I?"

John slowly agreed by shaking his head, not breaking eye contact as Rog wiped his thumb along Deaky's top lip. Once all the cream was on his finger, he put his entire thumb into his mouth and sucked off the sugary sweetness.

"Mmm, so delicious," Roger sang, moaning his _so_ out. "Would you like some?"

"I.. Uh.. Yeah.. Yes.. Yes," stuttered John, moving in closer to Roger.

The blond bit down on his bottom lip as he took the same thumb and gathered up some of his own whipped cream. He dreamily gazed into Deaky's greenish-grey eyes as he leisurely pushed his whole finger into Deaky's mouth. It took a second for the younger boy to gather himself enough to suck off the cream. When Roger removed his thumb, he again pressed it into his cocoa and licked off more cream.

The realization punched Roger right in the gut. Was he trying to seduce his innocent friend? Was he really biting his lip and keeping his lids low just to get some sort of reaction out of Deaky? He shouldn't have been tampering with the Year Ten's emotions.

"Roger?" asked John, trying to get the older's attention. "Will you stay? I mean, after Christmas is over? I'd like you to.."

"You tell me when you want me to go. I'll be right beside you until you get sick of my presence," he promised, touching his tongue to the candy cane.

John smiled to himself. Roger was just barely able to catch a glance of the expression before it dissolved back into his normal, charming look. The two sat together, gazing into the embers with their warm drinks in their hands, not talking, just being. It was more than enough. It was just right. It was all Roger needed.

They lounged in the comforting silence until their mugs were empty. Roger crunched down his peppermint candy cane when there was nothing left to drink. 

"What do you want to do now?" Deaky asked, placing his mug on the brick encasing of the fireplace.

Roger shrugged. "We could go look at the lights in the neighborhood? It's pretty late, but I'm sure your parents wouldn't mind if we slipped away for a minute or two."

That was all it took for John to scamper to his feet in search of a coat and shoes. It was ungodly easy for Roger to get John to do things that he wouldn't normally do, like sneak out. It was close to eleven, and Deaky's mother and father surely wouldn't want him running around outside with a boy like Roger. Luckily, they wouldn't know of their absence, and they had yet to discover just how much of a bad influence Roger could be.

The two boys threw on their heeled boots and wrapped up in less than efficient jackets before quietly escaping through the back door. Roger clutched onto Deaky's fragile hand as they laughed and ran together on the snow covered sidewalk to go look at the decorated houses at the end of the block.

"Oh, they're so beautiful!" exclaimed Deaky, gasping at the colored lights and blowup Christmas characters.

"Right? There was a street of houses a few blocks from where I used to live that went all out every Christmas. Every abode on the street was shimmering with light and color.. and life," said Roger, picturing the scene in his mind. "Max and I would go up and down on the sidewalk for as long as we could stand to stay out in the cold. We'd makeout and throw snowballs at each other."

Deaky pulled Roger into a hug from behind. "Max isn't yours any longer. It's just me here."

Roger leaned down and grabbed onto Deaky's legs, hoisting the younger boy onto his back. John squealed and wrapped his arms around Roger's chest. The blond spun around twice to make his friend dizzy and then started ambling back to the Deacon household.

"I'm okay with that," Roger assured.

When they got back, it was thirty minutes to midnight. Christmas was approaching quite rapidly. The lights in the house were off, signaling that John's parents had gone to bed. The two tiptoed back to John's room and ridded themselves of their snowy boots and jackets. John stepped into his closet to get his pyjamas on, but Roger decided to wait.

"I'm so exhausted," yawned Deaky, half-falling out from behind the door in his night clothes.

"Get some sleep, Deaks. I'll be just down the hall. We have much celebrating to do tomorrow," mentioned Roger, taking one last look at the lights he had strung just a couple of hours ago.

John nodded. "Goodnight, Roger," he softly said.

"Goodnight, John."

With that, Roger gave a slight wave and quietly felt his way down the dark hallway to his temporary quarters. A second after closing the door, the blond pried his jeans and top off, leaving himself almost completely bare. His boxers were the only thing keeping him from being totally nude. The agile boy stretched his arms over his head and popped a few joints before sinking into the mess of covers that he hadn't bothered to make when he'd woken up on day one, let alone today.

The guest bed was pushed up right under a curtainless window, allowing Roger to peer out into the dim tundra. It looked calming and peaceful enough, so he laid his head down and focused on the view. In the passing hour, Roger couldn't tell if time felt slower or faster, but it was definitely warped. He was in and out of sickly sleep that refused to fully take him. It reminded him much of the fever naps he used to take when he was a kid. He never could fall all the way to sleep, but reality was distorted to the point where he _believed_ he was asleep.

Roger could've stayed in that state for hours more, but the sound of the door creaking open seemed to cut him out of the sleepless sleep. He was nearly teetering off of the queen sized bed at that point, probably because he was used to having a wall on his right instead of his left. The door gently closed just as soon as it had been opened, but footsteps padded across the flooring until someone climbed into bed with him. There was just enough space between the wall and Roger for the slim body to fit comfortably.

"Who?" groggily groaned Roger, reluctantly prying his eyes open.

"It's me.. Deaky," whispered John, crawling under the blankets

That voice was enough to knock the blond back into the world of the living. The light from the window allowed him to see John's face right in front of his own. The younger boy was wide awake, and Roger wondered if he'd slept at all since they'd last spoken.

"What are you doing awake? Is it late?" Roger asked, pressing a wrist to his own forehead.

John nodded. "It's half past one. Am I bothering you?"

"You're fine. I just wish to know why you are still up. Is everything okay?" questioned Roger.

"I didn't mean to wake you up. I couldn't sleep. I thought maybe I'd sleep better if.. if I was next to you," Deaky admitted.

Roger tenderly smiled while yawning. "If I would've known you'd be joining me, I would've taken off my underwear too," he laughed.

John didn't giggle in response like how Freddie would, but he also didn't whack him with a book like how Brian would. Instead, he just stayed in place, blinking at Roger. The older boy was still relatively out of it and didn't even think to filter himself in such a state of mind. He cleared his throat and leaned up on his elbow.

"Tough crowd," he commented, flicking Deaky's nose. "Anything on your mind?"

"A lot. I can't quit thinking. I want to ask you something really personal and private, but I'm afraid to. I'm afraid to even let the thought fully formulate in my head,"  John admitted.

Roger's heart fluttered. "You can ask me anything, Deaks. I won't judge you."

"Do you ever question that maybe you are a girl?" he asked, flat out.

It was clear how uneasy the question made the younger boy feel. Instead of giving an answer right away, Roger began to gently comb Deaky's hair with his fingers to bring him comfort. It seemed to help lessen the tension in his body with every stroke from Rog.

"I've thought about it many times," Roger began, maintaining a calm voice as he soothed the brunette. "I come to different conclusions often. Sometimes, I think I'm just me being myself. I'm a feminine boy that likes to dress nice and load my face with art because that's who I am. Other times, I wonder if the real reason lies deep within my subconscious. I wonder if I'm transgender, and.. it's scary. We should be allowed to question ourselves at these ages, though. I'm only seventeen, and you're only sixteen. Life shouldn't make us decide right away, ya know? Does that answer your question?"

Deaky simply nodded, relaxing into Roger's touch. "I don't want to be different.." he croaked.

Roger grinned, slowing down his movements. He lightly tapped John's chin and then went back to stroking his hair. Soon, they were both laying down, face to face. Roger had to be a little daring, or else he would regret it forever. The blond snaked his arm around John's waist and pulled his body right up against his own.

"Nobody does. Why do you think us four friends stick together? We are different, and that's not accepted. We look out for each other because that's what oddities do. It's okay to question yourself, John. Someday, you may decide that you are a straight man or a bisexual woman. You just never know until you've let yourself explore," assured Rog.

Deaky just giggled in response. Now, that was a Freddie move.

"I'm surely not straight. Sometimes, I can't tell if you are or not. You get so many girls, but I've yet to see you go after a guy.." John murmured, repeatedly tracing a star pattern onto Roger's bare chest.

"Sweet John, I am many things. I am a slut, a smoker, a drummer, a backtalker, a drinker, a pretty boy, and a ticking time bomb, but I am not, _not,_ a heterosexual," Roger declared.

There was another one of those secret smiles on Deaky's tired lips that left as soon as it had appeared. He abruptly shut his eyes and pulled the blankets up to his neck.

"Merry Christmas, Roger Taylor," he mumbled, blindly reaching forward to cup the blond's cheek before retracting his appendage, scooting impossibly close to the wall, flipping over on his side, and falling into a deep sleep as if he'd commanded it on spot.

Roger just shook his head and turned over the other way, muttering, "Merry Christmas, John Deacon," as he fell into the inviting arms of real, true sleep.

The next thing Roger knew, he was being gently shaken awake. The older boy was caught in a haze, not fully registering that someone was trying to get his attention. Only when he was aware enough to notice the person on top of him, Roger opened his eyes.

"Wake up, you centipede!" exclaimed John, clapping Roger's cheeks between his hands.

"Centipede? That's the best thing you could come up with?" Roger asked, trying to adjust his eyes to the sight of Deaky's face directly above his own.

John rolled his eyes and removed himself from on top of the blond's body before beaming, "It's Christmas, and I want to give you your presents!"

"And you couldn't wait until I naturally awoke? You had to lie on me and slap me back into reality?" questioned Roger, smiling as he slid out from under the covers and raised his arms above his head.

The younger boy sheepishly nodded, eyeing Roger's uncovered body. The blond rolled his neck until it popped and began to smirk as he bent down to touch his toes. He worked out his joints so that they all gave a satisfactory pop before standing to catch Deaky watching him.

Roger laughed and asked, "Enjoying the view?"

"No! Not.. t-to say that you're ugly or anything," John stuttered, biting on his knuckles. "You're attractive, not ugly. I wasn't staring. I-"

"Oh, zip your lips. Where are my gifts?" Roger questioned, saving John from embarrassing himself any further.

Deaky took the opportunity to bolt out of the door, but he came running back in with two small boxes wrapped in silver paper with a glittery, white snowflake design. The meticulous wrapping most certainly was done with precision and care. John always put every ounce of himself into anything he did, even small things like decorating a box.

"Open them," he quietly demanded, sitting down on the floor and putting them into Roger's lap.

The older boy smiled and began to undress his first gift. After he got down to the carboard, he opened the flaps back and gaped at the contents. The first thing he pulled out was a polaroid of Jimi Hendrix, his favorite musician.

John pointed at it and said, "It's an original print! Took me forever to track down. Keep looking inside."

Roger wanted to stop dead in his tracks and gush over the photo, but John was insistent that he keep going. The next item was a simple, opalescent guitar pick with a chain running through a drilled hole. It was so cute and delicate, so Roger immediately put it around his neck.

"I love it! I'll never take it off," he promised.

"Just wait till you hear whose pick it used to be. My uncle saw The Beatles play in London ages ago, and he caught this bad boy from Paul McCartney," explained Deaky.

Roger's baby blues widened like never before. "Shut up!" he shouted.

"You can thank me later, but right now, you must open your other gift. These ones are just precursors of what's to come," hinted Deaky, motioning towards the flat box.

The older could barely contain himself as he tore off the paper and found two, sleek vinyls staring at him.

 _"Electric Ladyland_ by Jimi Hendrix and _The White Album_ by The Beatles? How did you get these? They are so new! John Deacon, I could kiss you! Nobody has ever put this much thought into me. I.. Thank you.. I'm so happy!" cheered Roger, running his fingers along Paul's guitar pick and the glossy picture of Jimi with one of his guitars. "I hope you aren't expecting great gifts like these.."

"Shh. I'll love whatever you got me," assured John.

Roger begrudgingly put down his precious items and padded over to his bag of clothes. He reached inside for his favorite cardigan that he had worn on the day he met his new friends. Next, he grabbed the pair of heeled, red boots that he hated going without. Roger had polished them to perfection. He took the two items over to John with a faltering smile on his face.

"I know how much you love these boots and this cardigan, and frankly, you wear them more than I do. These are all yours," he declared, handing them to Deaky.

Deaky practically squealed as he hugged Roger's attire close to him. "The flower printed one? Thank you! I am going to wear this combo the second I leave the house."

Roger grinned and handed him a small, cloth makeup bag that had a similar design to the cardigan. John looked up at the older boy for answers while accepting it and smiling like a madman.

"I put this together by picking out my favorite makeup products, only the best brands, and buying them for you. There is a bunch of starter stuff, like a small eyeshadow pallet, a lipstick and lip gloss, an eyeliner pencil, a tube of mascara, a foundation that I tried my damnedest to match to your pale face, and a rosy blush. There's also a couple of brushes, and I got you a package of makeup remover wipes for delicate skin."

"How.. did you know?" asked John, his breath totally gone.

The blond clicked his tongue and leaned over Deaky. "Because I see the way you gaze at me when I'm putting on makeup. It's your turn to shine," he whispered.

John basically fell into Roger's bare arms, not speaking. Roger never wanted to let him go. He wanted to hold onto the boy of glass and keep him protected from anyone that could hurt him, but Roger also knew that John was his own worst enemy. His insecurities and self-doubt clouded his view of himself, and if Roger could exchange his confidence and arrogance for Deaky's low self-esteem, he'd do it in a heartbeat. Roger put John before himself.

When the older boy noticed that John was softly shaking and sniffling, he almost fell apart. He had to force himself to let John go to get a good look at those watering eyes. His face was already puffy, and it created a searing pain throughout Roger's heart.

"What's wrong?" Roger asked, running his thumbs under Deaky's eyes to clear the salty tears.

"I'm sorry.. I'm really sorry. You're just so good to me, and you believe in me. I'm afraid to be myself, but you still fight for me. I want to be brave. I want to wear makeup. I don't want to care about what people think, and this may sound crazy, but around you, I don't. I.. I guess I love you or something," gushed Deaky, trying to smile.

Roger couldn't quite put into words how much he cherished John Deacon. There weren't enough letters or syllables. There wasn't enough time left in the universe. There wasn't enough of anything that could describe how much he wanted to give John the entire world and live in it right with him.

"It's okay to be scared," murmured Roger, gathering up John's hair. "You are the light of my life, Deaky. I'm here for you. I'm here, okay? I'm here."

He took John back into his grip as the human petal began to well up once more. They swayed together in the guest room, stroking each other's hair and finding complete support and relief. The earth stopped spinning on its axis, and the snow outside stopped falling to the ground. The only two people left in the vacant wasteland were Roger and John, holding onto one another.

That was, until, Mrs. Deacon called, "Boys! Freddie's on the phone!"

Just like the previous night, they immediately parted and shot away from each other. They didn't scamper into the living room right away, though. They just looked at each other, smiling and conveying everything they needed to. Roger wasn't sure about much, but he was sure about one thing. Roger Taylor was beginning to feel real, human feelings for his bass playing, book reading, big nerd of a friend. The thing was, he wasn't sure if they were platonic anymore. That was just about as terrifying as the thoughts that haunted him deep into the night.

"Wait! I got you one more thing!" exclaimed Deaky, running out of the room and back in, just as quickly. The younger boy placed a small, lacy bra in Roger's palm. It was white and see through, lacking pads, and it was even more beautiful than Max's bra. "If I'm going to be more daring, then you should be too.."

At that moment, Roger felt his beating heart swell up. He could have sobbed. He wanted to sob. If he did, though, Mrs. Deacon would surely call them and ruin the moment for the third time. The sassy, older boy with his untamable, blond locks, shimmering sapphire eyes, and a fashion sense that could kill began to really question if maybe their love was more than just friendship. Maybe it was. Maybe he was just euphoric over Christmas and the thoughtful gifts. Or, maybe, just maybe, he was falling in love.


	4. Need Your Loving Tonight

Roger Taylor was an absolute show stopper. He barely even had to try to make onlookers fall in love with him. The blond beauty was the definition of poise and grace when he applied himself enough. If only his feelings were as fluid as his looks. Now, they were already messed up, but try scrambling them and then tossing them down a canyon. That was Roger's heart and mind trying to work together.

He sat cross-legged in front of his favourite person in the entire world, John Deacon, while carefully applying a full face of makeup on his friend. It was a bit after ten p.m. on New Year's Eve, and the Four Fem Fucks were holed up in Brian's place, crafting their looks for a night out. They were crashing a party, and they were going to do it in style, according to Freddie.

"Pout for me, Deaky. Ah, yes. This is your colour. It's not too dark so that it washes you out, but it's not too light to where it doesn't pop. It's beautiful. Stay still! There we go.." Roger rambled, as he expertly lined John's lips.

"Do his eyeliner like how mine is. We really want our boy to upstage any desperate girl looking for a quick fuck at the party," declared Freddie, fluffing his hair in the mirror.

Roger nodded, reaching for the eyeliner pencil next. "Bold, but not too bold. Subtle, but not subtle at all. This is Deaky's first time properly wearing a full face, so I can't bar too many holes."

"I want to look like you," added John, lightly touching a hand to Roger's shaggy hairdo. "Your smoky eye is to die for."

Brian was working on buttoning his sequined vest with still wet, midnight purple nail polish on his fingertips. "That was nice of Rog to buy you all that makeup. What a sweet and thoughtful gift," he commented.

Roger reached down his chest to find the guitar pick still safely in place before Deaky added, "I'm so lucky to have Rog."

"Humph. I'm beginning to feel as though you've replaced me over Christmas. What makes this blond numskull any bloody better than me?" Freddie demanded to know, spinning around on his heels to ask.

"Don't be silly, Fred! Deaky loves you more than anyone. I guess I just have a charming effect on most people," cooed Roger, just to make Freddie tick.

Freddie laughed and thumped Roger's forehead. "You, queen, are something else. Now, I need to go get dressed, and I suggest that you finish up your art project and do the same. Bri, let's go pick out my outfit!" he exclaimed, pulling Brian away.

"Somebody's jealous," the blond sang, angling the last wing of John's eyeliner just right.

John shrugged and gazed at himself in the mirror, nearly gasping at how stunning Roger had made him. He touched his fingers to the glass, probably to make sure it was actually himself staring back into his eyes. The younger boy looked phenomenal to Roger, more so than even his beloved Maxim.

"Roger, how? I'm.. wow. I look.. pretty," Deaky breathed.

"That's all you, promise," assured Roger, slipping his plain tee over his head to reveal the lacy bra John had gifted to him for Christmas. "All you."

The straps were adjusted just right so that the little piece of material hugged Roger perfectly. There hadn't been a passing day since the twenty-fifth that the blond had gone around without his brassiere. He shot himself a heavy-lidded gaze in the mirror while tracing his prominent collarbones. John's eyes followed the movements. Roger pulled on a tight, leather jacket that matched his leather choker exactly and tore his view away from the mirror to face Deaky.

"Do I look sexy like this?" he nonchalantly questioned, tracing a hand up his bare torso, only stopping when he felt the lace under his fingertips. "I love the cardigan and jacket look with no shirt underneath, clearly, but how does it look with the bra? Better or worse?" 

If it weren't for the blush already on John's cheeks, Roger would have no doubt been able to see the redness appear in his friend's face. Perhaps the blond was doing everything in his power to get John to notice him a little more. Roger had been really putting himself out there lately, but he still couldn't exactly explain why. He craved affection from the younger boy, but it wasn't in a self-indulgent type of way. If Roger didn't know any better, he'd say he was _crushing_ on John.

"Y-yeah, you look plenty sexy. I like the way y-you dress," Deaky stuttered.

That was enough to satisfy Roger's cravings for the moment, but he couldn't stop himself from setting Deaky up. Roger didn't want to take advantage of the younger's sweet and loving nature, but he didn't mind tampering with it. Sticking his thumb in Deaky's mouth and getting Deaky to call him sexy were just a few things he could do to bend the brunette. Still, he didn't want to think about the possibility of feelings. Not yet.

Suddenly, Brian popped back in the door and asked, "Are you two loons in love coming or not? Fred and I are leaving now, with or without you saps."

"Are you two loons in love coming or not?" mocked Roger, scrunching up his nose. "Fred and I are horny and want to get to the party so we can sneak away and shag."

"Roger!" scolded John, stifling a laugh and placing a hand on the inside of Roger's thigh.

The older boy reluctantly removed the travelling hand. "You don't wanna do that. We need to get going, anyways."

John raised his eyebrows, oblivious as ever. Roger had to roll his eyes in response because even the most innocent people could understand his implication. Instead of elaborating, Roger stood up and grabbed John's hand. Deaky pulled on his shiny, red boots with the chunky heel and his flower printed cardigan, both gifted from Roger, and patted down a few stray hairs. His makeup was elegant and expertly applied. John Deacon looked like a divine figure, awkwardly posing in his high-waisted bell-bottoms. He was so simple and lovely to Roger.

While admiring his beautiful friend, Roger removed his leather jacket to pull on a cropped, tightfitting, ultra thin jumper. It was black, as were his jeans with knee rips. Fishnet stockings could just barely be seen underneath. His boots jingled with unnecessary zippers as he fluttered around to get his jacket back on. They both looked ungodly hot, especially side by side, in their fluffed hair and big rings. Bracelets and necklaces were a must have, always adding spice to their looks. The two boys were ready to party.

Roger and John walked into the living area together, Roger's arm hanging around John's waist. Freddie and Brian eyed them down, both looking just as stunning as the other two. They smirked at each other and then back to Roger and John, as if they were telepathically communicating.

"I want thigh high boots," Roger remarked, threading his fingers through the belt loops on Deaky's jeans.

Freddie piped in with, "I'm sure Deaky would love to wrap around your thighs, Rog."

The blond sucked his cheeks in, finding Freddie's comment even more insufferable considering that he was caught mindlessly messing with the edge of John's pants. He took a full step away from Deaky's side and grabbed a novel from the bookshelf. Roger didn't hold back as he threw the book at Freddie. The black-haired boy just narrowly dodged it.

"Barbarian!" Freddie shouted, dashing behind Brian.

"Maybe you should shut the fuck up before I whoop you next time!" threatened Roger, stomping out of the door and lighting up a cigarette.

Brian and Freddie had been weird about John and Roger's friendship ever since they returned back to town. Sure, the blond and brunette had bonded quite a bit over Christmas, but what did it matter? Had John said something? Freddie was his other half, after all. _Did_ John want to wrap around his thighs? He pushed the intrusive thoughts away and sucked back the nicotine before they piled into Brian's parents' car. Of course, Freddie was riding shotgun.

Deaky, who was sitting next to Roger, immediately started gazing out of the window to check out what lights were still left up. It seemed like everybody had started taking them down the second Christmas ended.

"Hey, I'm sorry for what Freddie said. We all know you aren't that kind of boy," whispered Roger, wondering if his assurance was even needed.

John nodded, averting his eyes. "It's not your fault that he's so vulgar.."

"Whatcha talkin' about?" questioned Freddie, turning around to face them.

Roger and John just stared at him until he rolled his eyes and turned back around. The second after he looked away, the two started silently laughing with each other. Their friendship was so uncomplicated; did Roger really want to alter that? He'd never questioned himself this much when he'd went for Maxim. Things with Max were so much less heavy to carry out. Sometimes, he wondered if they even had had true love. Other times, he wondered if love was what he felt for Deaky.

The Year Ten smiled at Roger with one of those grins that revealed the gap between his front teeth and laugh lines around his greenish-grey eyes. As if the blond couldn't have been more crazy for John's expressions, that one really gave him butterflies. 

For the remainder of the ride, Freddie and Brian did most of the talking. Freddie always had something to say, someway to entertain the other boys. Brian's comments never failed to make Freddie laugh, either. Deaky stayed quiet, glancing at the snow or Roger, but never anything else. Roger just laid back and enjoyed the nice feeling of being around the boys that had accepted him into their friend group. For the first time in his life, he had a place to exist as himself and people to share it with. Nothing would ever be quite as rewarding as that.

When they pulled up to the party, there were already tons of cars and plenty of teenagers making out on the hoods. The dazzling Four Fem Fucks arose from their ride, no doubt blowing away anyone within the radius of a kilometer. They strutted around the side of the house, acquiring many onlookers on the way. Roger could tell the attention was a bit much for Deaky, but the brunette looked the best out of any of them, so he had nothing to fear.

"You're going to be so cold. Your whole belly is on display in the freezing weather!" exclaimed John, touching his icy fingertips to Roger's exposed skin. The action made him jump. "Why did you wear a crop top?"

"Surely, Rog won't be cold wearing all that dead cow," Brian remarked, searching for the backdoor.

Roger squared up to Brian and began, "Listen here, veggie boy-"

"Down boy!" exclaimed Freddie, pulling the blond back. "We're here to have a good time. That does not include getting into a fight before we even get inside. Bri, shut the fuck up about Rog's choice to wear leather for five seconds, please! You can complain about it tomorrow, but for now, we're gonna have fun. Now, let's go look for drinks."

Freddie dashed inside, Brian right behind him. Roger shivered and let out a breath that turned white upon hitting the frigid air. John placed his hands on the older's stomach, probably attempting to warm Roger, but it only made him colder. He'd never tell that to Deaky, though.

Roger pulled him close and asked, "Do you want a drink?"

"Oh, no. I'm not drinking anytime soon," he promised, shaking in Roger's grip.

"Let's go inside. We could dance?" the Year Eleven suggested. John shrugged, staring down at the boots on his feet. "Come on, cutie. I wanna see you shake your ass."

Roger had to hold onto Deaky's hand to make sure they stayed together while navigating through the crowds. It was baffling how many people could fit inside one small house. There was music blaring from the next room over, so the two made their way towards it. Roger had been to many parties, but they all jumbled together when he thought of them. There was a lot of drinking and sneaking away to get lucky. He figured that tonight would be nothing like that. It didn't matter if he would or would not be interested in sleeping with Deaky because, like he'd mentioned earlier, Deaky wasn't that kind of boy. In fact, Roger preferred that he wasn't that way. It was an admirable way of living.

"I can't dance!" Deaky shouted, over the music.

"Just move yourself! It's easy!" assured Roger.

John shook his head, refusing to make eye contact again. Roger hated when John felt so low that he couldn't even look at the blond. Everyone around them was caught up in the beat, so Roger knew it was his only chance. He took John in his arms and lifted him off of his feet. The younger boy gasped and locked his arms around Roger's neck. Roger kept John close to him, as he was easy to hold. They both giggled and danced, not giving a care to anything or anyone else.

The music was so deafeningly loud that Roger couldn't hear the words. All of the bodies and sweat blended together in the thick haze. Dopamine and euphoria mixed with ecstasy and passion produced a fluid-esque state where all of the teens on the dance floor could combine as one, freely. Roger was impossibly close to John. They were still pressed together as they moved, soaking up each other. There was no air left to breathe in the dense crowd, but the blond had long forgotten about his body's needs.

Roger thought it would be so easy to kiss John. The heat of the moment was perfect just to dive in while their adrenaline was pumping. Not only _could_ he kiss Deaky, but he _wanted_ to kiss Deaky. The younger boy was already in his arms. He longed to press their lips together so hard that it physically hurt. He could have done it. He could have.

"Roger? Roger Taylor?" asked a girl's voice, tapping him on the shoulder.

Roger spun around, John still in his arms, as he searched for the person that had just said his name. Once he saw who was looking at him, he dropped Deaky.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" he asked, helping Deaky up. "Elaine? It's been a hot minute.."

Elaine Aurora was Maxim Nymph's best friend. She had golden hair that flowed to her waist and the biggest, brownest eyes that Roger had ever seen. There had been one or two times during his relationship with Max where he'd been unfaithful, just for a taste of Elaine. She was something, alright.

"Well, it's nice to see you. Do you wanna get out of here or something? It's been so long, and I'd really love to talk, if you know what I mean," she cooed, grabbing his arm.

"No, I'm not okay with that. I haven't seen you since August or September, and you're seriously asking that of me? No way," he scoffed, wrapping an arm around the boy he'd just dropped. 

Elaine guffawed and glared at John. Roger could spot Brian and Freddie enclosing in on them, but he wished they'd stay away until he was finished dealing with this rotten part of his past.

"How much have you changed? Who is this freak?" Elaine questioned, crossing her arms.

Roger had to think quickly in order to avoid something that he didn't want to happen. He intertwined his finger's with Deaky's and eyed him for support. What he was about to do could easily have been the worst mistake of his life, but he had to do something.

The blond sucked in a breath and said, "This freak is my boyfriend. We'd appreciate it if you'd leave now."

"Prove it!" she demanded, stomping her heel down on the floor. Brian and Freddie had officially joined in. "If he's your boyfriend, then show me."

"Yeah, Rog. Why don't you kiss your boyfriend for the nice girl?" suggested Freddie, leaning against Brian.

Roger could have strangled Freddie as he felt anger seethe through his core. He squeezed John's hand harder than he meant to in order to keep himself from going absolutely nuts. They didn't need for him to get into a fight, but God, did he want to. He'd throw a punch at anyone just for the thrill.

"Well go on!" shouted Brian, beginning to snicker. "Kiss Deaky."

"Kiss him, Roger," Elaine ordered.

The blond half-exploded, tossing Deaky's hand away. "I don't have to prove anything to you!"

She grimaced and fired, "You'd rather entertain yourself with this nobody than have sex with me? Screw you, Roger Taylor! No girl wants to fuck a boy that wears makeup anyways. I would only do you out of pity! You're a waste! You'll always be a waste!"

Roger saw only red as anger clouded his vision. He stomped past Elaine, Freddie, and Brian in attempts to dissipate his vexation, but he hadn't felt this mad since the locker room incident. Suddenly, he became painfully aware of the bra that he was wearing. Everything was wrong, and nothing was right. He needed to get out and faraway. Away from his feelings for Deaky, hate towards Freddie and Brian, and most importantly, every last memory that being around Elaine conjured up. Before he could get very far, a dude smacked up against him.

"Watch where the fuck you're going, jackass!" Roger hissed.

"Hey, bug-eyed queer! Who invited the homosexual parade?" demanded to know the guy that rammed into him.

He should have kept going; he knew that. Roger knew it would have been better for everybody if he just walked right out of the party without giving the dude a second glance, but his temper was getting the best of him. The blond watched as John, Freddie, and Brian ran up to where he was standing. A ring of teenagers encircled Roger and his new _friend_ to watch the confrontation.

"Wow, bug-eyed queer. I've yet to fucking hear that one. Did you think of that all by yourself. Or, are you one of those ugly jocks that lets just anything roll off of your meaty tongue?" asked Rog, balling his hands into fists.

The taller boy stepped right up to Roger, looking down into his glistening orbs, and roared, "Listen, blondie, I'm not afraid to pummel you and your glittery friends if you say one more fucking word!"

A jovial smile spread across Roger's painted lips. He popped his jaw before returning back to the inviting expression. Without giving another thought, he spat right in the fuming face in front of him.

"Now, that wasn't even a word, so you can't lay a finger on him!" reasoned Freddie, making sure that neither Brian nor Deaky tried to separate the two.

"I beg to fucking differ!"

A splitting siren pierced Roger's eardrums as his nose went up in flames. The pain was so blinding that his altered vision turned black as he fell to his knees. Warm blood flowed from both of his nostrils, running into his mouth. Roger spat out the metallic liquid, refusing to let tears sting his eyes. He reached for the boy's ankle and toppled him onto the floor, anchoring himself over the wretched animal. Before the blond had the chance to strike back, he was being violently pulled off of the boy.

Roger was met with Freddie's burning gaze a breath later. That's when he felt the second blow. Freddie had slapped him, hard, right across the face, and then began to drag him out of the party by his hair. When they were to the side door they had previously entered from, Freddie pushed Roger onto the lawn.

"Brian! Deaky! Get in the fucking car! We'll only be a moment. Move!" ordered Freddie, keeping his focus glued to Roger.

Brian grabbed John's hand and started leading him away, but through the piercing pain, Roger could just barely make out John looking back at him with terror, confusion, and pity on his soft features. The expression made Roger's heart hurt more than his nose.

"What did I ask of you?! What did I fucking ask of you?! One goddamn night! Your stupid anger is a fucking issue! You think what you're doing is okay? You think acting this way around Deaky is just fine? That boy cares about you so much, and yet, you continue to be a fuck up! What gives you the right? What gives you the fucking right to ruin our night just because you feel like it? Huh? Answer me!" shouted Freddie, grabbing Roger by the collar of his jacket. "This stunt is something else! We were gracious enough to take you in, but you keep messing up! We were just fine before you came along and started fucking with Deaky's head! Don't you dare think he doesn't tell me every last thing you do to make him go crazy for you!"

Roger sat there, taking in the harsh words. He'd never felt so belittled in the entirety of his life. He could only imagine all of the things John had told Freddie. The blond was constantly teasing John into sticky situations, just like the cocoa incident. Freddie sighed and helped Roger off of the snowy ground, tenderly dabbing at his fresh blood. Roger couldn't understand how the conversation had gone from him stupidly picking a fight into Freddie yelling at him for trying to make John fall for him.

Freddie lowered his voice to say, "I just want to know why you are playing with him. Does it give you satisfaction or something? He loves you, Rog. Can't you see that? Why are you torturing him?"

"I think I'm in love with him," groaned Roger, tired of being chastised.

"Well, duh!" exclaimed Freddie, beginning to laugh. It wasn't funny to Roger. "You really fell for him hard, aye? You know how I know? You don't try around him. Shitty situation, really. You could have fallen for me, the arrogant, out spoken princess, or you could have fallen for Brian, the humble, yet mouthy, sweet talker. But no, you fell for Deaky. He dislikes himself and gets picked on just for existing. He's afraid to be feminine, even though he's cried in my arms about wanting to be himself. John is anxious and shy, and you are nothing of the sort. That leads me to my ultimate question. Why him, Rog?"

Roger didn't even have to think for the words to pour out of him. "He's ungodly beautiful without giving effort. He is smart and talented. He's soft and gentle. I love him because he's the exact opposite of myself. Sure, I know I'm gorgeous, but I'm worth less than nothing. Deaky, now he's worth dying for. It's funny, really. I am worth nothing, but I want everything."

"How can you go from calling yourself the most stunning boy on earth to worthless?" Freddie asked, wiping Roger's blood off of his hands using a clump of snow.

The blond laughed before continuing with, "Money is just paper, when you think about it. I'm just a meat suit pretending I'm better than everybody. Keep up."

Freddie sighed again. "Darling, you are so stupid. Do yourself a favor and stop this pain for the both of you. Deaky's never been in a relationship. That virgin hasn't even had his first kiss. I really thought you'd do it in there. Who was that girl anyways?"

"Elaine. I used to practice infidelity with her when I was dating Max," explained Roger, not caring how selfish that sounded.

"If you fucking ever-"

"Don't even go where I think you are!" demanded Roger, frowning. "If I ever had the chance to be with John, I'd never want to hurt him."

Freddie opened the backseat door of the car for Roger, ushering him inside. The small grin on his face said that he believed Roger. When the blond looked over at Deaky, he began to despise himself. The younger boy was on his side, facing away from him. Roger wanted to reach out to him, to apologize for putting him on the spot in front of Elaine and for getting into a fight. But mostly, he wanted to apologize for toying with him. Roger had to hope that there was a chance that Deaky's love for him was more than platonic.

When Brian pulled into his driveway, they all stalled before getting out. Roger felt awful for managing to fuck up their night. It wasn't even midnight yet. He wanted to take it all back and undo the damage, but there was nothing he could do. The four of them sulked inside, looking like mishandled party favors.

"I'm gonna head home," murmured John, his gaze fixated on a focal point on the floor.

"Do you want me to give you a ride?" asked Brian.

Deaky shook his head. "I'll just walk alone. It's not far."

"Nonsense, dear. I'll join you," Freddie declared, taking Deaky's arm.

"Actually, I was hoping that.. Roger would.." he mumbled, finally daring to meet Roger's eyes.

Roger nearly stumbled over his own feet. "Really? Are you sure?" the blond questioned.

John shook his head yes and started meandering towards the door. Roger was quick to follow, almost afraid to touch him. They set off back into the night, but it felt way colder than it had before. Roger's exposed stomach would surely suffer from the walk to John's house, but he didn't care. The silence made him ache even more than his bare skin hitting the cold or the throbbing pain still in his nose. When they got to John's door, Roger lingered on the porch.

"Well, you better warm up by the fire. I don't want you to catch a cold," said Deaky, immediately hunkering down in front of the flames.

Roger inched towards him, finally sitting after pretending to mess with his choker. The warmth did feel like heaven against his numb skin.

"I'm.. so sorry, John. I.. I don't know what else to say," whimpered Roger, not feeling his usual confidence by any means. "You deserve an explanation. That girl that interrupted us, Elaine, is my ex's best friend, and I have a mountain of history with her. I thought that if she thought you were my boyfriend, she would leave us alone. I was really having fun with you."

"I wish I could tell what you are thinking, "John muttered, almost to himself.

Roger didn't have a witty response. All of his snarkiness was drained out, left to melt away with the snow on the lawn at the party. He wanted to explain everything. Could he? Roger wasn't simple enough to just say what he wanted to.

"How.. is your nose? Did that boy hurt you?" asked John, gingerly touching Roger's cheek.

"I'm okay, promise. Are you okay? I dropped you pretty hard."

John just serenely smiled and began to roll up his bell-bottoms. On each of his knees were big, purple and blue bruises. The sight of them nearly caused Roger to crumble away into pleading and tears. Guilt tore him apart from the inside, wondering how on earth he could have let himself do that. It was all Roger's fault. The one thing he never wanted to do was hurt Deaky. What if by confessing his love, he was hurting the boy just as much? He couldn't risk it. He just couldn't.

The brunette covered his bruises and mumbled, "Don't worry about it. I'm just fine."

"I think I better g-go, John," stuttered Roger, attempting to rise to his feet.

Deaky grabbed onto Roger's arm before he could get off the ground. "What? Why?" he questioned.

"It's better this way. I need to stay away. Freddie scolded me like a pissing puppy for what I've been putting you through. I never wanted to torture you, but I'm selfish. If I go now, I can keep your heart safe," explained Roger, backing up towards the door.

"You promised you wouldn't leave me!" John whined, straining his voice and facial features.

Roger glanced at the clock. The seconds till midnight were ticking away. It was nearly the new year. He needed to leave, to dash away and never return. That was what he was good at, right? Leaving when things got rough? He'd never had a wholesome love story, but maybe that was because the twisted, blond princess didn't deserve one. 

"It's better this way," Roger breathily declared, tears beginning to slam against his tear ducts.

John shook his head, sniffling. "It's not. You're so wrong-"

"I am wrong! Wrong for thinking about you every day and night. Wrong for wanting you so badly. Wrong for stringing you along and dancing you upon my fingers. I'm so fucking wrong, and I always will be. That's what I am! I'm wrong!" he shouted.

"Stop!" yelled Deaky. 

It was nearly midnight. It was now or never. Roger strutted across the floor in strides, not hesitating to grab Deaky like both of their lives depended on it. He waited, gazing into Deaky's painful eyes that were full of tears and misunderstanding. The blond had come to adore the boy, to love the boy. He wanted to run far from the world with the boy. He wanted to cuddle and coddle the boy forever. Roger knew from the second that he first laid eyes on John that he was going to mean something to him. He could tell by that thin-lipped smile and little tooth gap that Deaky was going to be the great love of his life. It just took way too long for him to admit it to himself.

The clock struck twelve, signaling the transition between years. Roger pressed their lips together in a gentle, meaningful, simple kiss. Deaky was completely unresponsive against Roger's mouth, but Roger still took the opportunity to give him a proper, show stopping, heart wrenching kiss as he trailed his hands to Deaky's hips.

When Roger finally let the brunette go, he watched a teardrop drip down John's supple cheek. That tingling sensation that Roger had felt in his lips the very first day he'd seen John in their secret room at school was fully back. Maybe it had never really gone away. Roger didn't believe in love at first sight, but he was beginning to. If only there weren't a thousand reasons for them to not be together.

Backing up from John took every ounce of the blond's willpower. It was like trying to arm wrestle with Zeus. Roger's pride had been stepped on too many times throughout the night. It was time for him to leave. It was time for him to part from Deaky and bury those feelings because it clearly wasn't written in the stars for them.

As he turned around to exit the Deacon household, he imagined himself running fast and far, never returning. The Year Eleven pulled open the door, sprinting away like his entire life depended on it. He bolted through the sharp air so quickly that the ice on the sidewalk didn't even have time to react enough to make him slip. Roger felt himself begin to cry, like maybe the dam inside him had finally burst for the first time since he'd lost Maxim. The frost in the air shredded against his stomach like shards of glass, but that wasn't enough to make him stop. He didn't quit running until he felt something hit the back of his head.

When his frozen fingertips swiped through his hair to feel what had struck him, he found the remains of a snowball. Out of breath, Roger finally skidded to a halt, spinning around to find a panting Deaky behind him.

"Don't.. leave.. you.. coward," he wheezed, placing his hands on his knees as he sucked in frigid breaths. Roger attempted to catch his own breath, taking a small step near Deaky. "I.. need.. your.. loving.. tonight."

John stumbled over to Roger, basically throwing himself against the older boy as his entire body quaked with the thirst for oxygen. Both of them were beginning to cry as they tightened their grips around each other. They shuddered from not having enough air, being beyond frozen, and starting to sob. John pulled on Roger's golden locks while Roger ran his hands up and down John's sides. They'd hugged a million and one times, but this felt like something more than a hug. It felt like holding onto someone for dear life, for fear of falling apart. It felt like the north and south poles of a magnet sticking together without ever needing glue. It felt like John and Roger were saving themselves. Maybe they were. Roger surely was.

The two could only stand so much cold before they started walking back to Deaky's house. Roger almost couldn't believe he was going back after what'd just happened, but before he even knew it, he was peeling his snowy clothes off, leaving the bra, and climbing under Deaky's sheets as his friend did the same. John's hair clung to Roger's skin as he laid his head on Roger's bare chest. The younger boy wrapped an arm around Roger's torso, snuggling down against him. They'd never cuddled before. The new year was bringing many firsts for them.

The fairy lights glittered in the small room, lighting up an imaginary wonderland. Roger gently combed his fingers through the length of John's hair, from his scalp to his ends. John lightly traced a finger over the blond's ribs, sending goosebumps down the older's spine. Was this wrong? Quite possibly. What was right? All's Roger knew was that he was content, maybe for the first time in his life. He'd always chased after something more, after a better feeling. That was why he had ever started smoking, drinking, and sleeping around in the first place. He could never be satisfied because he always wanted more.

"Roger?" asked John, angling his head up to Roger's. "If you could be anywhere in the world right now, anywhere at all, where would you go?"

Roger didn't even have to think. "I'd stay right here. This.. You.. It's everything."

"You could have it all," he whispered.

"I do," Roger stated, truly not picturing another thing he could ever want. "You're all I need."

John slinked his icy hand up past Roger's covered peck and to his collarbone. Soon, John's knee was crawling up Roger's body to rest on his belly. Nothing could compare to the feeling of John laying against Roger under the serenity of the twinkling lights. It didn't take long for the younger of the two to fall asleep, still plastered to the blond. His low breathing took place of the beautiful silence, but the soft sounds were even more enchanting.

Roger, even if for just one moment in time, had everything that he could ever possibly desire.


	5. Pain Is So Close To Pleasure

Roger's plump lips wrapped around the butt of a cigarette as he took another puff. The chemicals and euphoria tickled his lungs, but not more than how his arm felt. The body laying adjacent to him had been resting on his arm for so long that it was asleep. The person's nimble fingers were delicately curling his blond locks while he smoked. Neither of them were wearing clothes. There were two activities that people often did while nude, but Roger hadn't showered since the day before. He so desperately wanted to rid himself of the regret from the previous night.

"Elaine, I think it's time for you to go," croaked Roger, letting smoke swirl out of his mouth with each word.

"What? We just woke up-" she began.

Roger clamped her lips together. "Now. This never should have happened. Never. Not back when I was with Max and definitely not now. I don't want you ever coming back, okay? This is over. We are over," he declared.

"You're making a mistake!" Elaine shouted, lifting herself up to get a good look at Roger. "What, so you just called me for a quick fuck, and now, you're throwing me to the streets?"

He nodded. "So it seems. Get your shit and go. I don't know why you were even at that party, but I don't care. Never contact me again. Please."

"Ugh! Fuck you, you queer! Just wait till I tell Max all about what you're getting up to these days. You and those other boys are probably in one big, gay relationship, aren't you?" she asked, tugging on her clothes.

"Yeah, Elaine. We are. Those three boys and I are all in a beautiful relationship, but it's not sexual. It's the closest thing to family I've ever known. I betrayed them by sleeping with you. I thought maybe this.. you.. could convince me that what I'm feeling is stupid, but it only furthered what I feel. I don't know if I can save it now that I've so greatly fucked up, but you need to get out. Today!" he demanded, flicking the ash from the cherry and pulling on his boxers.

Elaine slapped Roger across the face and gave him the finger as she stomped out of his bedroom. He could hear the front door slam before the feisty girl revved up her engine and sped away, leaving Roger to stew in his regret.

So, what exactly had happened? Everything had been going perfectly the night before. Roger and John were cuddling in John's bed, and Roger had never felt more at peace with the world. That was, until the thoughts set in. He couldn't hurt John. He couldn't take advantage of him. Advancing whatever was blossoming between them appeared to be more painful and strained than easy and loving. Roger had slipped out from under John, maybe one or two hours after the younger had fallen asleep, and telephoned Elaine. That was the last thing he remembered before things got ugly.

Roger had royally fucked up. He had hoped Elaine would make him feel something, anything, but she didn't. She was nothing to him, as was every girl he'd had since the move. Roger wanted to die. He had to fix this, had to do something. There was only one person in the world that might have any idea of what to do.

He put out the cigarette and scampered into the kitchen, adorning only his boxers. His guitar pick necklace and bra had gotten lost in the rough night of love making. Roger's shaky fingers dialed in a familiar number and was greeted by a calming voice.

"Good morning, and Happy New Year, Mrs. May! Did Freddie happen to stay the night? I would really love to talk to him right now," cooed Roger, always knowing just how to work parents.

"Well, good morning to you too, Roger. Yes, Freddie is having breakfast right now. Freddie! It's Roger! He's on his way over. Have a good day, honey. There are cinnamon rolls here if you care to stop by," Mrs. May chimed, just as sweetly as her son would.

There was a pause before Freddie came on. "Hello, darling. I figured you'd be at Deaky's at this time. What's going on?"

"Freddie, I did something really bad," whimpered Roger.

"Mmm, so did I. I got lucky last night!" Freddie cheered, in a whisper.

Roger couldn't just ignore that. "Did you sleep with Brian?" he asked.

Freddie giggled. "Don't sound so surprised. Brian, dear, is a gentle lover. What about you?"

"I got lucky as well," Roger choked.

Freddie nearly gasped into the phone. "With Deaky?!"

"No! That's the problem! Freddie, you have to come here, quick. Please, I've made a huge mistake, and I need your help," he whined.

Silence followed Roger's plea. It was clear that Freddie had hung up, so the blond did the same before having another round of drags off of a cigarette and putting his bra and pick back on. He was in deep trouble. Not just with Freddie, but with himself. How was he ever to rationalize his decision to sleep with Elaine mere hours after confessing his love for Deaky to Freddie and then _kissing_ the brunette in his living room?

It wasn't long before a round of heavy knocks were echoing through Roger's house. Luckily, his mother wasn't around to see what was about to unfold. Freddie stomped inside, his lips pursed together. He wasn't wearing any makeup, and his hair was as wild as ever. Roger led him back to his room and motioned for him to sit down on the bed with him.

"Is that where you fucked her?" asked Freddie, pointing a finger at the bed. Roger only nodded. "Wash your fucking sheets. Now! Take them off, and let me watch you put them in the bloody machine."

The younger blond didn't fancy a fight, so he obeyed and began stripping his bed. Freddie followed him, arms crossed, as they went down the hall where the washer and dryer were. Roger stuffed his blankets inside with detergent and turned on the machine. Once he felt comfortable enough, he turned around to face the menacing boy.

"Explain," Freddie hissed, uttering nothing else.

"I.. kissed Deaky last night," Roger breathed, afraid to say the words. "He didn't reciprocate, and I ran out, but he followed me. We went back inside and took our clothes off to cuddle. Deaky fell right to sleep, his perfect head on my unworthy chest. I left awhile later, careful to not wake him. Then, I called Elaine. I wanted to get away from my feelings for him, to bury them away."

Freddie looked like he was on the verge of tears, but he kept his cool. "And did it work?"

Roger shook his head while avoiding eye contact, as if he couldn't feel any worse about what he'd done. He expected to get yelled at, just like the previous night, and probably get slapped a few times. It was what Roger deserved, after all. He deserved a lot more than that.

"Did you not listen to a damn word I said yesterday?" asked Freddie, his voice calm and collected.

"I heard what you said. I shouldn't have started playing with him in the first place, but this is so much worse," Roger groaned.

Freddie placed a finger against Roger's lips. "I said that John loves you."

"I want him to be _in_ love with me. That's way different than just love," reasoned Roger, his voice cracking.

"That's what I bloody meant, you dimwit! He's coocoo for you! I've never known him to feel so head over heels for anyone! John Deacon is in love with you, Roger Taylor!" shouted Freddie, wrapping his hands around Roger's throat.

Freddie let go and began trudging off down the hallway. Roger was right behind him as he grabbed the rotary phone and began dialing in a number. Who could Freddie be calling? Was he calling Brian to tell him that he was going to murder Roger?

"Lovely morning, Mrs. Deacon. Is John around?" asked Freddie, his voice smooth and charming.

"No!" exclaimed Roger, reaching forward in attempts to grab the phone.

Freddie swatted him away. "Deaky! My lovely boy. How was your night?" ... "Well, you can tell me all about it later. You know our friend, Roger Taylor, correct? The blond one who was sucking your face last night?"

"Freddie, stop! Please, stop!" shouted Roger, welling up all over again.

"Well, after he left last night, he rang that girl from the party and fucked her into oblivion. That's what he did last night while you were sleeping, dreaming of paradise."

Roger felt himself begin to dissolve, to disappear entirely. The world was on fire and his lungs felt like they were going to collapse. This was not happening; it couldn't happen. Freddie had not just done that. Roger was having a nightmare, right? He was still holding Deaky in his bed, softly stroking that wavy, brunette hair that he loved so much. He'd wake up soon, entangled with the boy of his dreams. Roger was crying, was sobbing. He was falling and dying. There was nothing left, nothing at all.

Freddie let go of the phone and bent down to where Roger had dropped to. "I didn't do it. I wouldn't. I can't break his heart. That's your job," he murmured.

"What?" Roger cried, wailing and shrieking like a child.

The black-haired boy took Roger into his arms and ran his fingers through the blond hair, hushing him and holding him tightly. Roger couldn't stop going mad. His body was vibrating as Freddie consoled him. He tucked his head into Freddie's neck, no doubt soaking the fabric of his shirt. Freddie's gentle hands covered the length of his bare back, rubbing sweetly. Roger had never cried to his mother like this, but he felt like he was in the moment.

"Calm down, Rog. Shh, you're okay," whispered Freddie.

"What did I do?" asked Roger, through sobs.

Freddie peeled Roger's tear-stained face from his neck and gently pressed his lips against Roger's salty cheek. "You did something bad. I don't know if Deaky will be able to forgive you, but you have to tell him. You have to do it, _now."_

"Okay. Okay, I'll go now," sniffled Roger.

The fair face in front of Rog finally smiled. "Brian's in the driveway. He drove me over. We'll take you to John's. Did you know that you're a terribly ugly crier?" asked Freddie.

 Roger rolled his eyes as he began making his way towards the front door. His temples were already beginning to ache from crying. He could only imagine how red and puffy his face was. For the first time in his life, he wasn't beautiful. Maybe Roger's inner horridness was finally spreading to his body, like a curse. He _was_ a curse.

"Silly! You can't go outside in just your boxers and brassiere! Get dressed," ordered Freddie, nearly laughing aloud.

The blond spun around and went to throw on clothes, totally forgetting about adorning his bra in the first place. Freddie didn't judge him or even _question_ him about it. Freddie Mercury was the most extraordinary person on the face of the earth.

On the ride to John's house, Freddie sat in the backseat with Roger, keeping his arm secured around Roger to comfort him. Brian hummed in the front seat. When they pulled up to the Deacon residence, Freddie kissed Roger once more, moved to the front of the car, and then sped off with Brian. It was time to face the music.

A few seconds after knocking, a gorgeous boy with his long, brunette hair in low pigtails was standing in the doorway. His eyelids were dusted with purple eyeshadow and a bit of liner. Those thin lips shining with rosy pink gloss upturned into a smile upon seeing Roger, even though he looked like a disheveled mess.

"Rog! I was just about to head to your house to see if you wanted to do something today. I didn't expect you to leave last night," John beamed, jumping into Roger's arms for a hug.

"Hi, Deaky. We should go inside," Roger replied, attempting a smile.

John tilted his head. "Are you feeling all right? You look a little sick," he commented, worry apparent in his voice.

"I'm okay. I just need to sit down."

John grabbed Roger's hand and guided him back to his room, closing the door before jumping onto his bed. Deaky looked so happy to be with Roger. He was grinning while sitting on his knees, holding Roger's hand to his chest. The younger boy reached his free palm to Roger's forehead to feel for excessive warmth. When he detected nothing, John cupped Roger's cheek.

Roger tried to grin again, but it was so hard. "Have I ever told you that you're beautiful?" he asked.

"I think you've mentioned that every single day since we first met," he assured, giggling.

That laugh was the prettiest sound in the universe. It was full of love and joy. It was Deaky. Roger loved Deaky. Why did he have to ruin everything he loved? All's he wanted was to give the younger boy something, someone, to hold onto forever.

"You know what I've learned ever since I met you?" asked Roger, encircling his hand around one of John's pigtails and gliding his appendage down its length. "I never realized this when I was off on my own. I never even thought about it, but it's true. Pain is so close to pleasure. Every damn time I see your adorable face, I feel pain, but it's not just pain. It hurts because I want to kiss you and bite you. But, it feels.. almost good. It _does_ feel good."

"I.. don't understand," gulped John, his hand against Roger's face going limp.

Roger was all cried out, thankfully. If he hadn't wailed in Freddie's arms, he would have been doing it in front of Deaky. The blond could already feel his friend slipping away from him.

"I had sex with Elaine last night," he declared, unsure of how to save Deaky's feelings.

That was all it took. John was gone. He let go of Roger's hand and face as his shoulders slumped. His head fell forward, but his normal veil of hair didn't join it considering it was tied back on both sides. John's bottom lip quivered, sending shockwaves of guilt through Roger's veins. To think, he was unknowingly so close to possibly having John. Roger grabbed Deaky's face and angled it so that the younger was forced to look at him. His features were full of pain, no pleasure in sight.

"John, I'm infinitely sorry. For what seems like forever, I have been feeling like you are my second half, my better half. It all hit me at once that I'm not just crushing on you for self-absorbed reasons. I.. I love you, and I don't know why I thought sleeping with Elaine would change my mind, but it didn't. I messed up, but you're all I want," Roger whimpered.

John shook his head. "No. Stop. You don't love me. Stop. Stop," he whined.

Roger placed his hand on Deaky's knee and took a deep breath. "I'm a selfish prick that doesn't care about anything that's not materialistic. I'm egotistical and self-centered and mean, and I drink and smoke and sleep around. I do what benefits me and no one else. I don't mix well with others because I put myself first, always. But John fucking Deacon, I am in love with you, and I want you to hold my hand and kiss my neck and tell me of your dreams and read me your favorite book passages because when I'm with you, I don't care about myself or money or lust. I never felt like this with Max or Elaine, and it scares me so much that these kinds of feelings are even possible. It scares me that I'm willing to do anything to make you smile. It scares me that I don't need sex to be appeased. It scares me to be so in love that I can't feel anything but you. It's just you. Nothing else."

Deaky's small amount of tears began to smudge his makeup job. It was clear that he had spent time on his look, probably just for Roger. He was finally beginning to gain some confidence. Had Roger ripped all of it away?

"I.. think you should go," John squeaked, rubbing his eyes. The loose, purple eyeshadow shined on his hand from touching the prominent color.

"Okay. I'll go, but I just want you to know that I think your makeup is really cute. You shouldn't waste it just because of me. Go out. Celebrate New Year's. Show the world who you are, and.. be fucking proud. Goodbye, Deaky," muttered Roger, leaving the broken boy at once.

The walk back home was treacherous, not just because of the splitting cold. Roger felt lost, which was something he hadn't experienced in awhile. He'd been given the world when he met Brian, Freddie, and mostly, Deaky. There was nothing he could do to console Deaky in this time. He surely couldn't go to Brian or Freddie. His mother wouldn't understand, and she was too busy living her own life anyways. There was one last person left that may have answers for him.

"Maxim Nymph?" asked Roger, speaking into the phone.

"This is she. Who is this?" questioned Maxim.

The blond took a shaky breath. "It's Roger Taylor."

Silence.

She cleared her throat. "Roger, hello. It's been.. s-so long," Max stuttered.

"Yeah, I know. I've been doing really well lately. Well, until now. How are you? Are you seeing anyone? You don't have to answer that," he rambled, feeling so goddamn small.

Max laughed, calmingly. "You're still Roger Taylor, alright. I'm not seeing anybody. I've been trying to focus more on my studies this year, and it's going really well for me. What about you? Any luck in the dating department? Why aren't you doing well now?" she asked.

"Actually, that's kind of why I'm calling. I met a few guys here that are.. amazing. They're my best friends, and I love them. I've been happy and expressing myself more than ever, but I did something incredibly stupid. You see, I've fallen in love with one of them. He's nothing like me! See, he's quiet and so fucking shy," Roger explained.

"You fell in love?" questioned Max, her voice raising an octave.

Roger bit down on his lip. "Yes. I kissed him last night and then.. slept with someone that isn't him. He's really innocent. He doesn't get around at all, and I greatly hurt him. I don't know if we'll ever be together now."

She paused before asking, "What can I do to help?"

"First of all, drop Elaine. She's an absolute snake. Secondly, I just need some advice. I have no idea what to do, and you were always so good at giving reasonable suggestions to my many problems," Roger verbalized.

Maxim guffawed and went on with, "Elaine? Why would I do that?"

"The truth? I slept with her a couple times when we were together, and I slept with her last night. Now, I'd love for you to tell me off, but my good friend, Freddie, already did that. What do I do to save what I have with this lovely, sweet boy? Please, Max. I need your help," he pleaded.

"Why am I not surprised? I'll confront her later," she sighed, clicking her tongue. "This boy means a lot to you? Don't give up on him. Don't smother him either because he's probably really hurt right now. Be there for him, but keep your distance for awhile. He needs time, Roger. If he doesn't want to be with you after this, then you have to accept it, but don't give up yet."

Roger truly smiled for the first time all day. "Thank you, Max. It's good to hear your voice after such a long time."

"Yours too, even though I just found out some really shitty stuff about my best friend. Good luck, Roger," she cooed, seemingly happy to hear from him. "Hey, before you go, I just want to apologize for how things ended between us."

"No need to. Us breaking up led to the most amazing experience of my life. I met Deaky. It's kinda funny how it was over a bra, though. I'm wearing a bra right now!" he exclaimed.

Maxim chuckled. "Never stop being you. Call again, okay? Goodbye, Roger."

"I'll definitely phone soon. Don't let Elaine off the hook. Goodbye, Max," Roger finished, hanging up a mere second later.

Talking with Maxim genuinely brightened Roger up. That wonderful girl deserved to know how awful Elaine really was. Her advice helped make the most out of his situation. John needed a minute to deal with Roger's actions. The blond would give him all of the time and space he needed, or as much as he could stand to give. In the mean time, what was he to do with himself?

Roger didn't want to stay in his house with his thoughts any longer. He put on a proper coat and tied a knit scarf around his neck before taking his mum's car into town. Luckily for him, she had carpooled to work that morning. After parking, Roger began walking down the sidewalk, lined with a few shops and a diner. The compacted snow crunched under his boots, and the sound was almost relaxing. He dived into a jewelry shop and began looking at the display pieces. There was a gorgeous necklace made from silver with a diamond, snowflake pendent calling out to him

"Can I help you find anything?" asked the middle-aged woman, her greying hair falling loosely around her shoulders.

Roger lowered his eyelids and put on a seductive smile. "Hello, beautiful. I'm looking for something simple. Well, something simple and special. I think that snowflake is perfect. See, the one I love absolutely adores snowflakes," he declared, recalling the memory from when Roger and Deaky were out in the snow as the precious flakes gathered in Deaky's lashes.

"That's a lovely piece, but it's a little pricey for a young person such as yourself," commented the woman, reaching inside the well lit case to present the shining necklace to Roger.

It would have looked so elegant around John's neck, and he knew that there was no way he could have passed it up. If John ended up forgiving Roger, the older would present it to him as a token of his love. Roger kept that memory of them in the snow so close to his heart, and if he could get the necklace for Deaky, it would _always_ be close to his heart too.

"I'll take it," Roger declared, fiddling for his wallet.

After treating himself to lunch and walking through town for a bit longer, he finally returned home. His mother arrived closer to the evening, and for the first time in awhile, Roger decided that maybe it was time to share some stuff about the current happenings of his life.

Roger stepped into the kitchen, letting the snowflake necklace dangle in his fingers, and said, "Hi, Mum."

"Roger, hello! I figured you'd be with the boys. What have you there?" she questioned.

"It's a gift for Deaky. I did something bad to him, and if he forgives me, I'm gonna give this to him," he explained

She half-smiled, drying her hands on a dishtowel. "Oh, well.. I hope it all works out. I'm sure it will. John is a sweet boy and really enjoys you."

Roger nodded, watching the pendent glint in the kitchen's light. "I called Max today," he commented, furthering their discussion.

"Did you? Why now? You don't still have feelings for her, do you?" asked his mother, turning her full attention to her son.

"No! No, I like Deaky. I.. love Deaky, actually. How do you feel about that?" Roger questioned, eyeing her.

She clapped her hands together. "Does he make you happy?"

"Of course," he scoffed.

His mother smiled. "Then, I hope he forgives you," she declared.

"Thanks, Mum," murmured Roger, giving her a quick hug.

He was happy enough with their talk. Roger didn't need her approval, but it was nice to know it was there. Giving Deaky time to come to terms with what Roger had done was going to be the hardest part. The anticipation was already killing him. It made his skin feel itchy, but no amount of digging could fix it. He banged against his drumkit for the rest of the afternoon in attempts to rid the itch, but it could only do so much. He wanted to be with Deaky.

The sun went down after what felt like forever. Roger's hands were raw from gripping onto his sticks, and a steady ringing filled his ears from the remains of the drum sounds. He took a bubble bath just to give himself something to do. In typical Roger fashion, the water was boiling hot. It couldn't melt away the guilt. It couldn't subside the itch.

He had had enough of waiting, for the blond was going absolutely insane. He reached for the wretched phone for the eightieth time today and rang up the Deacons. The itch was making his skin turn red, or was that the hot water? Whatever it was, he needed to do something, and Roger had already ruled out laying down in the snow.

"Deacon residence," chimed Freddie.

"Freddie! It's Rog. Is John around? I really want to hear his voice."

Yes, Roger was perfectly aware of how pitiful that sounded, how hungry. Maybe that's what love did to someone: made them crave the other person like an addiction. 

"Roger, now is not the time. Deaky sure as shit doesn't want to speak to you. Plus, he can't exactly speak well right now," Freddie hinted.

Roger's eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Listen, it's best that you stay away for a little while, okay? Things aren't ideal right now. John is really upset. I'll ring you tomorrow or something," suggested Freddie, trying to weasel his way off of the line.

"No!" Roger exclaimed, his fingers tightening around the phone in his hand. "Is something wrong? Freddie, don't you dare leave me hanging. I swear.."

Freddie sighed. "Deaky was attacked earlier today. He's out of the hospital and resting right now. Brian and I will pamper him tonight, so you need not worry. We'll see you soon, Roger. Stay out of trouble."

Everything was black; everything was dark. Pain (or was it pleasure?) crashed over Roger, soaking his body completely. There was no light, no sound. Pain. The world was spinning, hurtling. Pleasure. There was no end. Pain. Roger felt the floor under his body. Pleasure. His mother was running, shouting. Pain. He couldn't see, couldn't hear. Pleasure. Everything was gone. Pain. Everything besides that gap-toothed, thin-lipped smile. Pleasure.


	6. Seaside Rendezvous

John had been attacked. How? By who? When? Where? Mostly, why? John was sweet and innocent, deserving nothing but love. What kind of monster could look at him and think that it would be okay to inflict harm on him? Roger had been asking himself that for days, becoming more livid with each passing second. He'd long since chewed off all of the red polish on his nails. All of his unanswered questions had been completely consuming him. By day two of nonstop calling, the Deacons had quit answering him. Whenever he went to their house, Brian and Freddie refused to let him in.

Roger hadn't been eating or sleeping very much, but today, he would get some answers. It was the first day back to school. Christmas break was over. The blond was so anxious to see John and find out what had happened that he poked himself in the eye twice while applying mascara. Finally, he gave up.

His lips were red and swollen from being mindlessly bitten. He was at war with himself, and his state of mind only proved that. Roger tried covering up the purple and blue shadows under his eyes with foundation, but his shaky hands wouldn't let him do precision work. He couldn't even line his lips, so he ignored them entirely. Before he could become any more insane, Roger left for the day.

When Roger waltzed into Mr. Howler's English III class, he strutted right to the back of the room and threw his hands down onto the table to get Freddie's attention. He probably looked deranged, but his ability to bend others just how he needed to was momentarily gone. Freddie barely batted an eyelash upon noticing Roger, which only added to the blond's disdain.

"You better get to fucking explaining," demanded Roger, in a hushed voice.

"Do be more specific, darling," Freddie ordered, nonchalantly tapping his toes under the table.

Roger didn't want to become more enraged than he already was. "What happened to Deaky? Why wouldn't you let me see him?"

"Ah yes, _that,"_ spoke Freddie, as if the subject left a bad taste in his mouth. "In lamest terms, Deaky was attacked by a group of six or seven drunk men that got a little too excited while celebrating New Year's."

The picture that flashed through Roger's mind was all but pleasant. "Attacked how? Like.. physically? Did they.. beat him?" he asked, almost not wanting answers.

Freddie nodded. "John said that they were calling him obscenities the whole time. The usual ones, you know. Fag, queer, homo, tranny, et cetera, et cetera. They got him pretty good. He's such a trooper, though," he explained.

The realization that John had been targeted because of the way he was expressing himself made Roger's heart go up in flames. It wasn't fair that people looked at a boy in makeup and saw the world's worst problem, when there was so much more vial shit happening than a teenager being happy and living his life.

"No.. I was the one who told Deaky to go out! It's my fault. Freddie, this is all my stupid fucking fault," Roger wailed.

"Shut up. You didn't mean for this to happen, and no one blames you. Especially him. In the hospital, when he was all doped up on pain meds, he was crying for you. We knew better than to let him see you. He wasn't in the right state of mine for that."

Roger nearly blew a gasket. "He wanted to see me, and you didn't fucking let him? What gives you the right, you dumb Year Twelve!" he shouted, drawing in attention from the other kids that had arrived to class.

"I'm not dumb," simply responded Freddie.

"Oh yeah? If you're not dumb, then why aren't you in English IV with Brian? You failed, and now you're in here with a bunch of Year Elevens!" Roger reasoned.

The black-haired boy rolled his deep brown eyes. "I get that you're angry, but keep your voice down. After he came out of it, he didn't want to see you. Every damn time you called and showed up on the doorstep, it made him more upset. He's gone through a lot over the past few days, and we all agreed that it was best for you to stay away. The boy was bloody beaten, for Christ's sake! He's got bruises aplenty, claw marks, a horrid black eye, and worse!" he explained.

The younger shuddered. "Worse?"

"So. Much. Worse. His lip was busted open. You wanna know how many stitches are in his innocent face? Five. Five fucking stitches. But, they did something way worse than just damage his face. Roger, they took away Deaky's favorite part of himself. The part that gave him comfort. The part that he loved when you messed with. The part that made him feminine and a little more confident," Freddie began.

"No.." croaked Roger.

Freddie stared Roger straight in the eyes while saying, "They held him down and shredded his perfect hair with pocket knives. When they were done, he looked like a freak. It's all gone now. His mum cut if off, leaving only his fringe and a few centimeters of hair everywhere else."

There came a point when a person felt so much at once that they couldn't react. They had to just stay still and take it all, feeling helpless and drained. This was Roger's moment. He was a statue for nearly five solid minutes, unable to do anything but breathe and blink.

"Where will he be next period?" asked Roger, as the bell signaling the start of the day went off.

"Why should I tell you?" questioned Freddie.

Roger looked to him with his pale eyes. "Just tell me," he demanded.

Freddie sighed and responded, "Brian and I are graduating after this semester, leaving only you left here to care for him. You better make things right. He has study hall next, so he'll definitely be in the safe space."

"Thank you."

With that, Roger rose from his chair, grabbed his crossbody bag, and walked right out of the classroom without telling Mr. Howler where he was off to. Being Roger Taylor meant a couple of things. For one, he was great with people when he needed to be. Secondly, he could wrap girls around his fingers in the blink of an eye.

First, Roger raided his locker to see what he could find. A pair of opaque, black stockings were shoved under a physics textbook. Oh, how he wished he could remember what girl he had charmed those off of. The only other items he could find were two black hairbows that had obscene, white polka dots on them and his knee socks that he'd once worn during a game of truth or dare at Brian's house. How'd they even get to school?

Next, he dazzled his way past the young secretary to get to the lost and found. Roger immediately picked up a black miniskirt that could dangle around his thighs. He also came across an atrocious, striped tie with disgusting shades of pink and yellow slanting down it. His finishing piece was an oversized, white button-up. This stuff would have to do.

Lastly, he ran down to the bathroom and spiced up his eyeliner. He slipped into the stockings and put the socks on over them, pushing one down for added effect. He loosely tucked the shirt into the skirt and tied the ugly tie in place. Roger fastened the bows to the top of his golden head of hair and gazed at himself in the smudged mirror. He looked perfect.

When it came time for second period to start, he waited until the halls cleared to make his way to the safe space. Roger peered inside the small window to see someone sitting on the couch, their face in a book, with a familiar bass propped up next to them. It was Deaky.

Roger pressed open the door, taking three whole steps before John put down his book. The sight in front of the blond was heartbreaking. John's left eye was blackened and halfway swollen shut. His bottom lip was extremely puffy, the five stitches previously in question sticking out like a sore thumb. On the right side of his face, there were three claw marks running down his cheek, inflaming the delicate skin. Despite his travesties, John was wearing lip gloss and mascara. The fact that all of his lovely hair had been forceably removed nearly made Roger puke on the spot, but John looked as cute as ever in the short hairdo.

Neither of them said anything for a couple of breaths as they soaked each other up. Roger was fully in drag, and Deaky was all mangled. Still, they both managed to smile, almost at the same time. Roger didn't know how John could produce such an angelic smile with such a battered face, but he did it while radiating all of the beauty and charisma in the world.

"Oh, my love, what did they do to you?" Roger finally asked, lightly tracing his fingers over each bruise and scratch. "Do you hurt?"

"I'm okay, Roger. You look stunning. Why are you dressed that way? This isn't like you," pointed out Deaky, still grinning.

Roger couldn't match his expression any longer as he studied the marks. "I'm making a statement. What these men did to you was because you dared to be different. This is to show everyone that different is not a disease. I mean, I look fucking amazing, after all," he elaborated.

"Yes, you do. Roger, I miss you so much," Deaky pouted, his expression turning sorrowful.

It was now the blond's turn to hold the smile for them. "You did the right thing pushing me away. Still, I've been so worried. I couldn't sleep or eat or think.. or do anything. I'm just so glad your spirits aren't broken," cooed Roger.

"It took me a minute, but I realized that I can't give up on who I am because of this. I need to try harder, now more than ever. I was attacked, but I lived. I still can put on makeup, go to school, and show everyone that I'm not as easily breakable as everyone thinks. I guess we are both making statements today."

"John, I just want you to know that even if you don't forgive me for what I did with Elaine, I still love you. You're the only one, John Deacon. I just put on lost and found clothes for you, goddammit!" he exclaimed, hesitantly letting go of Deaky's face.

John stood up from his place on the couch and entangled his hands in Roger's hair. "I wish you could do this to me," he whispered.

Roger reached forward and glided his hands through Deaky's short hair. "I can, see? Even if it's not the same, I'll still do it until it _is_ the same again. You are not defeated by this."

"No, I'm not. I thought I was, at first, but then I realized that this was my chance to stand up for myself instead of making one of my friends do it for me. I know you came by the house and called dozens of times, but I really couldn't stand to see you then. I'm so sorry," apologized Deaky.

"Never apologize to me again," demanded Roger, fighting every urge to take the smaller boy into his arms and never let go. "I know I hurt you.. I can never tell you how much I want to take it back, but in the moment, I really thought I was protecting you."

Deaky furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "Protecting me from what?"

"Me," Roger squeaked.

John sadly smiled, stepping so close to Roger that their chests brushed together. "You'd make an awful bodyguard, then."

Roger couldn't help but grin at John's stupid joke. That was his Deaky. That was the boy he adored. The one Roger wanted to heal, both the physical and emotional wounds. That was the brunette he was afraid to kiss but not afraid to toy with. 

"I know that nothing I can do will ever fully erase what happened, but I want to take you out on a date. I mean, if you still have feelings for me. Do you? I guess I never asked. Freddie mentioned something about you having them, but I get it if you don't," Roger rambled.

Deaky placed a finger against Roger's lips. "Have you lost your cool or something?" he asked.

"You have that effect on me," stated the mess of a blond.

"So, what you're saying is that I'm so uncool that it rubs off on you, the coolest boy in England?" questioned John.

Roger turned the shade of a ripe strawberry before catching himself and realizing that his friend was just teasing him. Deaky started to chuckle, looking jovial and beautiful. His laugh lines made an appearance along with the little gap between his front teeth. He couldn't stretch his stitched lip very wide, but it was clear that he was happy. The boy was radiant, as always. The rough claw marks and discolored eye couldn't stop him from stealing Roger's entire, black heart.

"I've never been on a date before," Deaky admitted, sheepishly. "How does Roger Taylor do dates? Will it be a romantic, seaside rendezvous where dolphins sing to us and butlers cater to our every whim?"

"A seaside rendezvous? Maybe you _are_ just as extra as me!" exclaimed Roger, giggling like Freddie.

John's smile turned soft as he gently laid his head against the older's shoulder. His arms crawled up Roger's back, enveloping the blond in safety and comfort. Roger shut his heavy eyes while listening to the calming sound of John's breath. It was lovelier than any ocean wave crashing against the beach. It had only been roughly four or five days, but it felt like forever since Roger had had the opportunity to hold his precious love. He was so lost in the warmth that he barely noticed as John began to play with the hem of his borrowed skirt.

Roger leaped back, scoffing. "Handsy!" he shouted.

"You wish!" he retaliated, taking Roger's hands instead. "Damn, what happened to your nails? Did you get into a fight with sandpaper?"

The older shook his head, almost embarrassed of the answer. "I chewed off all of the polish in my manic state of worry and guilt."

John was back in his arms before he could barely get all of the words out. "I'm okay," he promised.

"Oh, Deaky. I love you. I love you, I love you, and I love you. Maybe it's too soon to say that considering we've only had one kiss, and well, basically, it doesn't count because you didn't reciprocate. That doesn't matter. I love you. _I am in love with you,"_ Roger declared, lifting the lighter boy off of his feet.

"I am in love with you too," Deaky squealed, letting Roger spin him around the safe space. "I love you."

The words coming from Deaky's lips were gorgeous, were infatuating. He'd finally said it, finally affirmed it. Roger could have floated into the air. He could have cried. He could have died. But, he wasn't going to drop the brunette. He wasn't going to drop the boy ever again.

"Tonight, okay? Ask Freddie over to help you get ready, and I'll invite Brian to mine. Do your makeup. Dress however you want. Be you, Deaks. We're going on our first date."

"Perfect! Perfect, perfect, perfect. I, uh.. You.. don't have to keep those clothes on if you don't want to," John commented, after he was placed back on the ground.

Roger placed a hand on his hip and popped a knee out. "Nonsense! I look fucking great," he asserted, tossing his hair back. John giggled, covering up his mouth as he did so. "Hey, what did I tell you about hiding your gap? It's so cute. I want to see it every time you laugh."

John let his hand drop to his side and proudly presented his teeth. "Is this enough for you?"

"Lovely. I better go, Deaky. I probably shouldn't skip another class today. I know I'll be in detention for walking out of Mr. Howler's, but it was worth it. I'll see you tonight, my love," he assured, gently kissing the bruised skin below Deaky's left eye.

The younger madly blushed and nodded. He delicately waved goodbye as the blond boy in drag sashayed out of the safe space. There were a few girls standing in the hallway when he entered back into the main corridor. They immediately turned their gaze to him, and Roger expected them to laugh, to point, to do something, anything.

"Hey, Roger!" called one of them, smiling. "I like your tie!"

Roger grinned, straightened his posture, and elegantly strutted over to the three. "Thanks, cutie. Don't I look like a queen?"

The shortest girl of the three nodded and proclaimed, "Absolutely. Are you doing anything tonight?"

"Actually, I have a date. Do you know John Deacon?" he asked, twirling once to let the silky skirt jut out around his thighs.

"The quiet one? Of course!" the third declared, her smile faltering. "I heard he got beat up. Shame. He's adorable."

The Year Eleven nodded in agreeance. "That's what I keep telling him. Anyways, I'm taking him out tonight."

"Have fun," said the girl that originally got his attention

"Thank you. See you around? I'd love to do your guys' makeup sometime. A little bit of white eyeliner just on the waterline can go so far," Roger advised, motioning to all three of the Year Ten girls. "It makes your eyes look bigger."

The shortest nearly shrieked. "Would you? Oh, thank you, Rog!"

"Anytime. Au revoir, ladies," he cooed, stepping away from the giggling girls.

Maybe not everybody that Roger came in contact with was looking to put him down for being different or shag him for being attractive. Maybe there were a few rarities out there that just saw him as normal, saw him as human. The blond didn't need acceptance, but he knew that others weren't as lucky to be born with no fucks given like himself. John wasn't born that way. Maybe after Roger too graduated, a year after their Year Twelve resident Four Fem Fucks, there would be a few people like those girls that could look out for Deaky. Roger wanted to believe that.

For the first half of the day, the blond beauty acquired many looks, whistles, and comments about his choice of attire, but he kept a smile on his striking features. At lunch, he was the last one to enter the safe space. All of the other boys were already in their seats, and Deaky was sitting on the couch while playing his bass.

Roger didn't say a word as he walked in and plunked himself down in the rocking chair. Deaky flashed him a tiny grin before returning his focus back to his fingers. Brian and Freddie were caught up in each other, but that all changed when they saw the Year Eleven.

"Hello, queens," he announced, crossing one leg over the other. "Did you miss me?"

"Miss? Now, that's a strong word," Brian remarked, pulling one of his curls down only to let it spring back up a moment later.

Roger flashed a grin. "I see that _you_ still love me."

Brian pursed his lips and began, "Love? Now, that's a-"

"Strong word, I know," Roger finished, pointing his gaze towards Freddie. "What about you?"

Freddie shrugged, glancing at Deaky. "I like your company when you're not being a twat," he answered.

The low hum of Deaky's bass filled the uncomfortable silence that formulated after Freddie's comment. All eyes were on the youngest boy now, watching him strum. He was intricate and delicate, two things Roger could never be.

"Bri, fancy coming over for a little while tonight?" asked Roger, building up to the big announcement.

"Sure, Rog. I'd be glad to," Brian assured, smiling.

John stopped playing his instrument. "Fred, will you come to mine for a bit?"

"Of course, darling. Anything for you," he purred.

Deaky and Roger shared a knowing glance that made the blond giddy. They looked away from each other just as soon as their gazes touched, but it still meant the world to Roger. Deaky _was_ his world.

Brian sighed and finally questioned, "Okay, what's going on?"

Before Roger could elaborate, Deaky was piping in with, "Rog and I are going on a date tonight!"

Freddie and Brian started choking, as if on cue. They widened their eyes at each of the boys, seemingly unable to speak. John giggled to himself and began plucking his strings once more. There was nothing to say, and all four of them knew it. In fact, they didn't utter a word for the rest of lunch. They each just did their own thing, happily existing together.

Brian arrived at Roger's doorstep around seven in the evening, his appallingly purple button-up exposing most of his chest. Roger ushered the older inside and led him back to the bathroom where he was applying his makeup before Brian showed up. The tall boy sat on the edge of the bathtub and focused on the blond.

"So, how did you go from being the reason why Deaky sobbed for a day straight to his first date?" asked Brian, the disgust in his voice taking over.

"He.. cried over me _that_ much?" inquired Roger, stopping in the middle of blending his eyeshadow.

Brian nodded. "He was inconsolable. The poor baby was in so much pain from his injuries, but he still managed to only give tears to you. Freddie and I laid in bed with him for hours, cuddling him and hushing him. We iced his face and rubbed his back. Deaks talked about you until his throat was raw. Are you worthy of him, Roger?"

Roger could practically hear John's strangled wails. "Truthfully? No. I'm not worth his pinky finger, Bri, but I do love him. I don't need crazy, wild lust from him. I just want a misty love story that surrounds us in solace. I'd give it all up for one shot to please him," he declared, returning to the mirror to add silver glitter to the corners of his eyes.

"That sounds genuine enough. Don't pull something stupid like that again, especially if he becomes your.. boyfriend.. or whatever. He's never been on a date, and he's never been in a relationship. That's a lot different than the used girls and guys you're accustomed to," Brian verbalized.

"You don't think very highly of me, do you?" asked the blond, dabbing red lipstick to his extra pink skin.

Brian shrugged, standing to face the mirror with Roger. "Deaky's basically my son, so I'm just being protective."

Roger leaned back to rest against Brian. "Mummy May, I promise to take extra good care of your sweetie," he moaned.

"Buzz off!" Brian demanded, laughing. "Can I do your mascara?"

"Please do. I always poke myself. Then, I need your help getting me dressed," replied Roger, blowing on his new nail polish. He'd chosen midnight blue with tiny sparkles this time.

Brian motioned for Roger to sit where he previously was, and as he began to comb through Roger's lashes with the dark brush, his lips parted in concentration. Brian really was pretty with his pointy nose and wild curls. He could understand why Freddie would want him. Hell, Roger might if he wasn't so in love with Deaky.

"So, what are you going to do tonight? All wholesome stuff, right?" inquired Brian, screwing the brush back into the tube when he was finished.

"Yes, Mother May," mumbled Roger, standing up and dabbing a bit of perfume on his collarbones, triggering a guffaw from Brian. "Oh, don't look at me like that!"

The two ambled back to Roger's room so that the blond could dress. Brian helped him into an over-the-top, frilly cardigan that was decked out in silver sequins, matching the corners of his eyeshadow. Under the cardigan, there was only Roger's simple, white brassiere. His high-waisted, black jeans were decorated with a few embroidered cherries, matching the color of his lips. Along with his black boots with the unneeded zippers and favorite, leather choker, Roger's outfit was complete.

"There you go, rock star. Anything else you need before you head on over to pick up Deaks?"

Roger cheekily grinned while nodding. "I need you to go fill up the bathtub. Also, I put some buttered bread into the toaster oven, so if you could turn it on and bake it for a few minutes, that'd be great. There is some cheese in a bowl in the fridge that I sliced earlier, so if-"

"Are you just getting me into making you and Deaks cheese on toast?" interrupted Brian.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing, but don't forget to run a bath as well! All wholesome, promise. When you're done, drive over to the Deacon residence. You and Freddie are having dinner with John's parents tonight. Thanks for the help, Bri!" exclaimed Roger, giving Brian a peck on the cheek before dashing on out of the house.

Roger took a few deep breaths, clutching the precious snowflake necklace in one hand as he put his mother's car into drive with the other. It took way too long to convince her to go out for the night without the car. His heart began to race as he backed out into the empty street, only illuminated by the streetlamps spread out across the sidewalk. The confident blond had never felt so nervous for a date. He was always so smooth and charismatic. Roger didn't ever even have to try to make his dates happy because they would feel lucky just to be with him. Now, he was the lucky one to be able to have a shot with John.

He had to brace himself in the driveway before getting out and walking to the door. The hand with the necklace in it was shaking, but Roger couldn't even feel the cold against any of his bare skin. His free hand was knocking, though he didn't fully register the action.

Roger had spent most of his life constantly trying to find the next best person to kiss, to hold. He always wanted something better, something more worthy of his time. He'd had love once, but the more he fell for John Deacon, the more he doubted what he had had with his previous girlfriend was real. The way John made him feel could be compared to skydiving for the first time or swimming in a hot spring at midnight. It also felt like falling asleep in a wool blanket or dancing until his legs felt like jelly. It was indescribable using simple terms, but could be broken down into specific aspects.

When Roger's baby blue eyes soaked in the sight of Deaky, he felt as if he were skydiving, swimming, falling asleep, and dancing all at once. The older's fiery lips curled up into a bright smile, so scintillating that it seemed daytime for a few seconds. Deaky was standing there in a black sundress that flowed freely around his knees. The fabric was printed with _snowflakes._ An oversized, grey jean jacket covered the fair boy up top, but his pasty legs were exposed to the world. Electric pink socks with a lacy hem peeked over the tops of his red boots, making his whole outfit so bold and striking. His makeup was fully done, eyes dusted with red and lips with pink to mimic his feet.

"I think I just wooed Roger Taylor," declared John, loosely placing a hand against his chest.

"I'm.. You.. I.. I.. Wow.." Roger stuttered, breath totally gone.

Deaky, despite his black eye, busted lip, and jagged nail marks, looked celestial. His short hair, his simple smile, his sundress, his shiny boots, his everything. He was otherworldly.

"You are every breath, every wish, every music note, every kiss.. You are everything," declared Roger, his words turning white upon mixing with the air.

John jumped into Roger's grip from the steps. "I knew you'd like it. Don't I look wonderful? Freddie helped me pick out the dress."

Roger set John on the ground and intertwined their fingers to lead him to the car. He nearly forgot about the necklace clutched in his fist until he was opening the door for his date. The older boy held his hand up to the night sky, letting the pendent shine under the moon's glistening light.

"This is for you, my snowflake. My favorite memory of us is when you made me look into your eyes because you had snowflakes in your lashes. This is so you'll never forget. I guess Freddie had a similar idea," admitted Roger.

"Rog! I could cry! That's so sweet. How much did you spend on this?" asked John, delicately touching the charm.

The blond cleared his throat before declaring, "A small fortune. Now, turn around so I can put it on you."

Deaky immediately obeyed, spinning around and reaching back to move his hair out of the way. "Oh, right.." he muttered, realizing there was nothing to grab.

"It'll be back before you know it," Roger promised, clasping the necklace.

They drove back to Roger's house, and thankfully, Brian's parents' car was nowhere in sight. The blond got out first, scrambling over to open the door for Deaky. The younger smiled at how chivalrous Roger was being.

"Quaint. Did you plan something for us to do?" asked Deaky, taking Roger's hand again.

"Of course, I did! What do you take me for? A simpleton that doesn't plan for his love? I think you're really going to enjoy yourself tonight," he assured, leading John inside and hanging up John's jacket

Their dinner of cheese on toast was sitting inside of the toaster oven, and Roger didn't doubt that Brian had done a fine job. He quickly put on a kettle of tea and turned back to John, who was entertaining himself by flipping through the radio stations on the stereo. Roger took the opportunity to glide over to John and wrap his arms around the smaller boy from behind.

"You smell delightful," commented Roger, hazily resting his head on the narrow shoulder.

John made a happy sound and reached behind Roger to mess with his hair. Just like every damn time John pulled that move, Roger was given prominent tingles. He closed his eyes to really immerse his whole being in the good feelings. Soon, they were swaying together to gentle music, the blond blithely rubbing his hands around John's hips. Now that John's jacket was gone, his bare shoulders were out, and Roger really had to restrain himself from placing tender kisses along his skin.

"Freddie put perfume on my neck," Deaky finally said.

That sly fox. Of course, Freddie put perfume on Deaky's neck. Roger did the same thing to himself, so why wouldn't Freddie do that to Deaky? It made sense, after all.

Roger allowed himself one kiss. He leisurely pressed his lips to John's collarbone, taking his time in gently sucking the delicate skin. John's head pressed against his as he did so. He couldn't stop himself, not yet. He moved his lips over the same area, sucking in harder. The older mindlessly nibbled with his perfect teeth. The blond was so lost in it that he barely realized he was giving John his first hickey.

When the kettle began to scream out, Roger jumped back and assessed the damage. "Whoops?"

Deaky encircled his finger around the reddish bruise before declaring, "It didn't even hurt."

"You're so innocent," Roger proclaimed, pouring each of them a cup of tea.

"Well, I'm only sixteen. Just because you had every damn last one of your first times before the age of sixteen doesn't mean that I had to do the same."

The Year Eleven opened the toaster oven and placed their dinner on two plates. He then set each cup of tea on a saucer and motioned for John to follow him. Deaky quickly shut off the stereo and caught up with his date.

"Being innocent isn't a bad thing. If it makes you feel any better, this is my first time on a romantic date with an innocent person," backhandedly comforted Roger.

John just rolled his eyes and walked into the bathroom with the blond. "Rog, why are we in here?" he questioned.

Roger gasped, as if it were the most obvious thing. "We're having a seaside rendezvous, duh!" he exclaimed, sitting on the edge of the filled bathtub. "Gourmet food made by a butler that we can eat sitting next to the ocean. Translation: Cheese on toast made by Brian that we can eat sitting next to a small body of lukewarm water."

Deaky smiled widely and made himself room at the other end of the tub's edge. "It's lovely, Rog. Really, it's just perfect," he assured.

And, it was. Their dinner was still hot, and it was clear that John was happy to be having his favorite, simple dish. Roger took off his boots and socks to dangle his feet in the tub, sparking John to do the same. The blond took the opportunity to slink his arm around the younger's back as they began to eat.

"Maybe I can take you to the real ocean someday. What about over the summer? We could go lodge next to the seaside for a few days.. or a week. However long you wish to stay," said Roger.

"I'd absolutely love that, but can Brian and Freddie come as well? I am not looking forward to them leaving, you know? We've been friends forever, and I'm so terrified of them going away," Deaky admitted, taking small bites of his meal.

Roger rubbed the back of Deaky's free hand while declaring, "I'd love that. Us queens need a vacation together. They will still be a big part of our lives after they leave school, Deaks. You think they'd just go off and forget about our existences? I thought us idiots wanted to form a band someday! Can you imagine us queens on stage? Damn, what would we even call our band?"

John laughed and sipped on his tea. "I've no idea. I just know that I want to be around you guys for as long as I can. Especially you, Roger."

"I'm not going anywhere. If we're.. anything.. by the end of my Year Twelve, I promise that I'll wait for you to graduate before going off to college. If I so choose to go, that is," Roger decided.

"I don't expect you to make any commitments or sacrifices. Can you just tell me one thing?" asked John. Roger nodded, taking his last bite and setting his plate aside. "When you hooked up with Elaine, did you genuinely believe you were doing it to protect me?"

Roger peered around Deaky's head to make eye contact. "Yes. A thousand times, yes. I thought that if I could just get my feelings out of the equation, I wouldn't risk hurting you. I tried to see if sleeping with Elaine would bring back anything along the lines of feelings. It was like I was trying to prove to myself that I didn't love you or something, but it backfired. I kicked her out and sobbed to Freddie the next morning over my mistake," he explained, sparing no details.

"Okay. That's all I wanted to know." Deaky dipped his hand below the surface of the water and splashed up a fair amount at Roger. "I forgive you."

Roger's mouth fell open as his sequined cardigan became wet. "How dare you?!" he shouted, reaching both of his hands into the tub and soaking Deaky.

John gasped. "My makeup!" he cried, spitting water at Roger. "It's on!"

Deaky stood up in the bathtub and began kicking water at the older boy. Roger soon joined him, splashing and drenching the other. It was an all out war of water as they ruined each other's outfits and makeup. The unruly liquid didn't hesitate to splash out of the tub and soak the floor, but neither of them gave it a thought as they giggled and harmlessly attacked each other. That was, until Roger slipped and fell right on his back, down into the water

"Ha! I win," stated Deaky, tossing his arms above his head.

Roger reached out to grab John's ankle, knocking the younger right on top of him as he shrieked. They finally had a good look at each other. Their mascara and eyeshadow were all over their faces, along with smeared lipstick and smudged eyeliner. Still, Roger thought John looked gorgeous. Water lapped against the two as they lost themselves in the other's eyes. John's arms locked around Roger's neck as he grinned.

"Your hair is a mess," Deaky whispered, raising one foot in the air.

"Well, I _am_ a mess. What else is new?" asked Roger, eyeing down John's moist lips.

Their first kiss had been less than wonderful. Roger had done all the work, but he hadn't even had the opportunity to enjoy himself. He was too caught up in his nerves and the time to savor the taste and warmth. There needed to be a redeeming moment.

"John, may I kiss you?" he politely questioned, tracing a finger over those thin, pink lips.

"Please.." John breathed, shaking in the process.

Roger closed the small gap between them, eagerly taking the younger's lips in his own, minding the bumpy stitches. Oh, how soft they were. He moved his lips in time with John's, not wanting to go too fast, for he feared that the brunette wouldn't be keen on excelling so sharply. Roger's hands, starting from Deaky's shoulders, slowly moved down his wet back, stopping only when they got to his firm bum. Deaky's lips tasted like fresh cherries and a hint of sweet vanilla, and Roger would keep that mental note with him for the rest of his life.

"Mmm, I could get used to this," mumbled John, clearly favoring Roger's bottom lip.

The blond was focusing on Deaky's top one in order to avoid irritating where his other had busted. They laid together in the water, gently kissing, until Roger reluctantly broke the loving touch. He smiled at Deaky like he was worth the entire world because he _was._ Roger truly did love the dear boy.

Roger hugged John, kissing his forehead twice, before asking, "Is this the kind of date you expected when you envisioned your seaside rendezvous?"

"Maybe not exactly, but this is the best date I've ever been on. Not that I have another to compare it to, but I've been enjoying myself from the get go. Do you.. remember what you said to me on the day we first met?" he inquired, changing the subject.

"Er, depends. I told you that you took my breath away. I asked how long you'd been dating Freddie. I commented on the gap between your teeth. I said that you were prettier than me. I declared that I was almost one hundred percent certain that I needed you in my life-" he rambled, recalling everything he'd gone over on that day.

Deaky hushed him. "That! Do you still feel that way?" he asked.

"If I'm being honest? No, I don't feel that way anymore," Roger stated, lowering his eyelids. "Now, I _am_ one hundred percent certain that I need you in my life. There's no almost about it."

John giggled and laid his head on Roger's bare, wet chest. The older began running his fingers lovingly through Deaky's lack of hair. If the water would have avoided getting cold, they could have stayed like that for another hour, but eventually, it was too unbearable to stay in their wet clothes. Roger gave Deaky a towel and faced away from him so that they could both undress and dry off in semi-privacy. They put on some of Roger's less skimpy pyjamas and went back to the kitchen to turn on the radio.

"We need some dancing tunes," commented Roger, shaking his hips before the music even started playing.

"I can't dance, remember?" questioned John, toying with his snowflake necklace.

Roger stuck his tongue out. "Remember how we solved that problem last time?"

"Yeah, you dropped me onto the hard floor," Deaky answered.

"Maybe you should let that go," laughed Roger, taking Deaky's hands and spinning him around the room.

John shrugged and allowed Roger to dance with him. "Maybe you should kiss my ass," he declared.

The blond nearly fell again. "Feisty! I dig it," he growled, moving John's arms back and forth to a quick pace.

They danced until their legs were jelly, which was one quarter of the feelings that John gave Roger. Then, they cuddled down on the living room floor, swaddled in a ginormous, wool blanket, and talked about life until they were so out of their minds that nothing made sense, which equated to half of the feelings that the younger gave the older.

"Rog?" sleepily asked John, his voice muffled by the fabric of Roger's shirt.

Roger yawned while responding, "Yeah?"

"I better get home. My parents don't want me out late on a school night," he explained, nearly asleep in the blond's arms.

"Let's get you home, my love," declared Roger, pulling himself out of the haze.

They drowsily walked to Roger's temporary set of wheels, hand in hand. Deaky still had some red eyeshadow on that survived their water war, which made Roger feel giddy and whimsical. Deaky didn't even attempt to hide his gaze that glued to Roger on the entire ride to his house, and for Deaky's own sake, Roger would never point out that he could see him from his left peripheral.

When they pulled up, even though they were both unsure of the time, Roger noticed lights still on throughout the little abode. They strolled near, their hands locking once more. Roger anchored his hands on John's hips and tugged him close, one last time.

"Will I be able to see you romantically again?" asked the older, dancing his fingers against John's sides.

John nodded. "I'd like that very much."

Roger paused before mustering up all of the courage inside of his body and inquiring, "John Deacon, will you be my boyfriend?"

"Hmm, I'll think about it," he teased, turning rosy himself. "I'll agree to that if you kiss me again."

Roger didn't need to be asked twice. He immediately dove in, his lips grazing with John's as they exchanged saliva for the second time that night. John's hands cupped Roger's cheeks as they made out in the winter air, snowflakes beginning to fall from the sky and stick to their faces. It was like Mother Nature had planned that kiss for them.

All of a sudden, the front door barged open. Freddie was standing in the doorway, smirking like crazy, with one hand on his hip. Brian's arms were crossed, but his expression was even less subtle. They'd both seen Roger and John kissing, clearly. Those queens could never just be low-key.

"Get inside, you snow dusted gays! We were just about to play a game," Freddie declared.

"Not another game!" John shouted, curling up to Roger upon hearing the dreadful words.

Freddie and Brian maniacally laughed at Deaky's poor reaction. Roger just wrapped the youngest up in his grip and lazily glared at the boys in the doorway. 

"Silly geese. We're gonna play a game with your folks, Deaks," elaborated Brian, stepping aside to reveal the older Deacons sitting at a foldout table.

John breathed a sigh of relief and pecked his lips to Roger's neck before stepping inside his house. The four friends gathered around the small table with John's parents and all smiled at one another. What more could any of the flamboyant teenagers ask for than to be playing a wholesome game with two middle-aged adults?

Roger and John began to sneak glances to each other all throughout the game. Roger was so happy to be with him, so goddamn happy. He never could've imagined that the highlight of his day could be returning his date home at a reasonable time and playing a round of cards with the date in question's parents, but he truly was glad to be doing so. Roger hadn't a clue where his relationship with Deaky would go, but he was willing to put forth as much effort as he possibly could into making it a love story worth writing about.

True, at the time, Roger didn't know if he had a real future with Deaky, but that was three months ago.


	7. I Was Born To Love You

Winter had kissed England with white blankets of snow crystals and left a sunny field of flowers in its place. The springtime air was constantly sweet smelling with hints of flower petal and fresh grass. The season of life meant that one could stay outside longer and enjoy nature as it unfolded around them, enveloping them in comfort. Birds sang their heartfelt songs from morning to night, filling the countryside with sounds of solace.

Roger was not-so-patiently waiting for his boyfriend to return home by sitting on the younger's porch and talking to a fat, calico cat that had settled at his feet no more than ten minutes ago. A spring breeze floated in and wrapped its arms around Roger's body, ruffling his choppy, blond hair. He'd cut a good chunk of it off since the winter, but it was still long and alluring. The warmer months gave him an excuse to wear less clothes, as if he already didn't push it enough in the cold. Today, he wore a fancy, red blazer with only his bra underneath. The thing was, Roger had cut off the sleeves and half of the back, so it was more of a cropped, sleeveless jacket. As always, his leather choker was clinging to his neck along with Paul McCartney's guitar pick.

"Sorry, kitty, but I'm in a committed relationship," purred Roger, stroking the stray's head as it dared to lay on his lap.

The sun was hanging low in the cyan-painted sky, shining down on the blond boy as he busied himself with studying the jagged scar below the cat's right ear. It was the perfect afternoon. Well, it would be. The only thing Roger was missing was the smaller boy that could usually be found right by his side. It had felt like forever since the beginning of spring break. Deaky had left with his family on day one, and it was now a full week later. If only he could hurry.

"I know someone that would absolutely love you, kitty. His name is Freddie, and he adores cats. I bet you'd love Freddie. I love Freddie. Everybody loves Freddie," Roger rambled, just to pass the time.

Roger heard the Deacon family car rumbling down the street before he saw it with his eyes. He immediately perked up, catching his gaze on the familiar ride. The calico scrambled off of Roger's lap and bolted off as it pulled into the driveway. The blond's heart began to race, making it a kilometer every second. He shakily rose to his legs, only covered by studded, jean shorts that barely made it halfway down his thighs. The time had come.

A moment after the car had stopped, John jumped out from the backseat and dashed right into Roger's arms, a blur of pink and squeals. Their lips collided instantly, and Roger didn't hesitate to suck the gloss right off of John. Roger lifted the smaller boy off of his feet, supporting him by holding onto his thighs. John pulled on the blond's hair while kissing him so passionately.

"Well, they surely missed each other," grumbled Mr. Deacon, stepping past the boys in love.

"Mmm, I thought.. you'd left.. for good," Roger commented, between kisses.

Deaky pulled their faces apart and breathlessly declared, "Never."

"I forgot how cute you were," remarked the older, setting Deaky down. "Your top is so adorable."

John was wearing his special, snowflake necklace and a magenta tank top with yellow flowers filling up large spaces. It was frilly at the hem and complemented by white jeans with, of course, the red boots handed down from Roger. There had been a floppy sunhat on his head, but it had fallen off a moment after they'd started making out. Roger picked it up and placed it on himself. John was in the process of regrowing his hair back out, so he often wore hats. His bangs had gotten much longer, though. They went straight across his forehead, hanging just above his eyes.

"You're not allowed to leave me for that long ever again. Do you know how insufferable Brian and Freddie are? I only realized that when I didn't have you to gawk at. They are such dorks! Always hooking up but never getting together. I just don't understand them!" exclaimed Roger, kissing his boyfriend once more.

"I think you just missed me too much. I'm sure they think we're annoying whenever we snog or cuddle, yeah? Same thing," Deaky observed, tracing a heart onto Roger's cheek.

Roger slid an arm around Deaky's waist and began walking off with him. "It's not the same because you and I are actually dating. We _are_ still dating, right?"

John rolled his eyes. "No, Rog. I met a much more handsome boy while away from home, and we are going to run away together after sundown," he declared.

"I'm sure," Roger mumbled, stealing one last kiss as they began their walk. "I figured we could get to Bri's on foot. It's such a lovely day, and I want to catch up with you."

The brunette boy smiled, swinging their connected hands. "I'd like that. What are we doing for the rest of the day?" he asked.

"Well, the other boys are keen on having a sleepover before school starts back up, so I bet we'll be staying at Brian's. If you want to, we could sneak away in the night and go catch a midnight showing of a movie?" Roger suggested, stopping in his tracks to pick a lonesome, delicate, white flower growing between one of the cracks in the sidewalk.

"Anything for some alone time with you," cooed John, blushing as Roger positioned the flower behind his ear. "Does it look nice?"

The older boy nodded and reached forward, rubbing his finger along the bottom of John's left eye. "You had an eyelash on your cheek," he said, presenting it to the brunette. "Blow it away, and make a wish."

Deaky pursed his lips before closing his eyes and whisking away the tiny hair with his soft breath. When he reopened his greenish-grey orbs, he cheekily smiled at Roger and kissed him, making it their fourth time of the day. Roger didn't complain as he let the touch linger. Those lips of Deaky's were always soft and sweet.

"What did you wish for?" questioned Roger, as they parted and continued their stroll.

"I wished for a future.. with you," admitted John, impishly.

Roger and John had been together for three months, but every damn time John expressed that he wanted them to stay in love forever, it made Roger feel like he was weightless. In previous years, he would have laughed at the idea of marriage, of settling down. Now, at the ripe old age of seventeen, he was ready to commit, to promise himself to John for the rest of their lives.

"I don't know if I can promise that we will grow old together and sit on our porch in our lovely, suburban neighborhood while we are nearly eighty, just drinking tea together, but I can promise that I love you more than anything, John Deacon. I want to hold your hand and tangle my fingers in your hair, and I want to sleep next to you just so that I can hear your soft breath in my ear. I want to kiss you and talk to you and feel you. I want you, Deaky," proclaimed Roger, giving John's hand a gentle squeeze.

John snuggled up to Roger's side. "Still, I hope we get something like that. Do you want kids?"

The blond thought for a moment before saying, "I'm not really sure yet. Do you?"

"Oh, yes. I want many kids. As many as my partner will let me have. I'm quite good with them. Patient and gentle. Oh, how I do want them so," he professed.

"When?" questioned Roger, finding Deaky's response absolutely charming.

The younger raised his eyebrows. "Well, as soon as I can have them, I suppose. I don't want to wait years and years. I'd be willing to have a kid right now," John stated.

"Deaky, you _are_ a kid! So am I!" exclaimed Roger, laughing good-heartedly.

"It's not like I'm actually going to knock somebody up right now! I just want to be young when I have them. I was raised without siblings, so I was always quite jealous of everyone else that had them. I just like being around kids. I'd make a wonderful parent," he declared, lightly stepping over a snail.

Roger smiled to himself. "I know you would, Deaky. I know."

John began to hum as they walked, fingers intertwined and swaying in the refreshing breeze. It felt so good to have the little brunette back to fill the silence that could destroy Roger at any given chance. He was dependent on the boy to save him and love him, and it was great to know that someone accepted him and appreciated him as much as John did. Roger didn't have a clue where or who he'd be without his precious snowflake.

"I may have gotten you a gift while I was away," noted John, as the two arrived at Brian's house.

"Do tell," pushed Roger, hoping that the gift was another kiss.

John shook his head. "You'll have to wait until tomorrow to see. I'll give you a hint, though. Do you remember when you said ages ago that you wanted thigh high boots?" he asked.

"You didn't!" squealed Roger, his mouth falling open.

Deaky shrugged. "Like I said, you'll have to wait till tomorrow."

The older wanted to take a diva moment to freak out, but the door was already being opened from the inside. Freddie grinned widely and took the brunette into his arms, lightly running his nails along Deaky's back.

"My darling! You've returned! I have missed you so much, dear. Do you have any idea how annoying your boyfriend is when his lips aren't smashed against yours? Ugh, what a rat. I've narrowly avoided going insane," Freddie ranted, winking at Roger.

"Be honest, Fred. You've been trying to get in my pants all week, haven't you?" asked the blond, lowering his eyelids.

Freddie let go of John and shook a fist at Roger. "Brian!" he shouted.

Brian appeared in the doorway just moments later. "Deaks! Gah, these two are like chickens without heads when you're gone. You know what I've had to deal with?"

Deaky giggled and basked in the love. "Okay, I get it. You all can't stand each other unless I'm around," he declared.

"Precisely!" Freddie affirmed, taking Roger and John by the hands to drag them inside.

"Who's hungry?" questioned Brian, pulling out a chair at the dining table for Freddie.

John sat in front of Freddie and said, "I am. I've been in the car all day long, and I'm dying for something to eat. What're we having?"

The curly-haired boy placed a big bowl of colourful vegetables in front of Deaky. "A healthy, clean, vegetarian salad."

The youngest of the four grabbed the salad tongs and piled his plate high. "Anything is better than that tofu, mystery not-meat you usually try to feed us," he proclaimed, digging in.

"Yeah, that's the boy I love," announced Roger, grabbing his boyfriend's face and smooching his forehead.

Freddie rolled his eyes. "Can the blond go a whole minute without licking Deaky?" he questioned, taking a portion of their meal for himself.

"Okay, queens, let's not start arguing yet. Deaky just got back! Why don't we sit outside and eat our food?" Brian suggested, grabbing the bowl with one hand and a checkered blanket with the other.

The Four Fem Fucks took their food and sat down on the lawn after Brian had put the blanket down. The previously clear sky was now full of greyish, puffy clouds, glowing around the edges from the low-hanging sun. The other part of spring was the frequent rainy days, but Roger truly didn't mind them. He enjoyed the mist, the haze. The boys scarfed down Brian and Freddie's creation in no time at all, as if they had been deprived of sustenance for a week. Roger _had_ been deprived of his version of sustenance for a solid week, but it wasn't food that he'd been craving.

When their meal was finished, they all laid down together in the shape of a compass rose, their heads touching in the center. Freddie was above Roger, with Brian on his left and Deaky on his right. It didn't take long for them to join hands as they watched the rolling clouds zoom by. When they weren't bickering, they were usually enjoying each other's companies in silence.

Roger could smell the rain in the air before it had even begun to fall. It was his favourite scent out of every damn one that the season brought. He rubbed the pad of his thumb along the back of Deaky's hand and angled his head to look at him, but his boyfriend was already gazing back. The look was so effortless and simple, but it held all of the meaning in the world to Roger.

"They're doing it again," whispered Freddie to Brian, though he wasn't super subtle about it.

"What?" asked Brian, not even lowering his voice.

Freddie smacked him. "Ogling."

The blond stuck his tongue out and pulled Deaky right on top of him. "Ogle, ogle," he cooed, elbowing Brian.

"Shouldn't have said anything, Fred," Brian laughed.

Freddie joined Roger's side with a smirk. "Riddle me this. Have you two done it yet?" he questioned, poking Deaky.

Deaky turned redder than the blazer hugging the Year Eleven's shoulders. "Well, we'd ask the same thing about you and Bri, but you tell us every fucking time you do!" exclaimed Roger.

"You tell them?!" asked Brian, completely dumbfounded.

"Well, of course, I do!" Freddie giggled, mindlessly messing with Roger's bangs. "Just tell us."

John buried his face in Roger's chest, triggering Roger to place his hand on the back of the younger's head. Brian had mimicked Freddie by laying on his stomach on the opposite side of Roger. The two eldest exchanged glances. The blond just stayed still and grinned.

"You have!" shouted Freddie, gently smacking Deaky's arm. "We won't press you about it. I'm just a little upset that Deaks didn't call to tell me right after."

Roger rolled his eyes and flicked Freddie's nose. "Privacy's a thing," he murmured.

The first raindrop smacked right against Roger's cheek with a hefty _thump._ John perked up, his face still flaming. His lips curled into a smile as he wiped away the drop from Roger's skin. John loved the rain nearly as much as he loved the snow, and Roger knew it.

Freddie wrapped an arm around the youngest boy's back and nuzzled him. "Congratulations," he whispered.

"How was your trip?" asked Brian, trying to lighten the mood.

Deaky shrugged, gently rubbing a finger over Roger's collarbones. "It was fine, I suppose. I missed you all so much, though. I'm pretty lost without you three."

"We're lost without you too, my love," Roger affirmed, relishing in the tender touch.

Another drop struck the blond's lips, followed by Freddie's ear and Brian's nose. They were being lightly pelted by huge tears from the dreary clouds in the matter of seconds. John cuddled down against his boyfriend, not seeming to mind just yet.

"My eyeliner can't suffer!" squealed Freddie, grabbing onto Brian. "It took me so long to get this wing today."

In the blink of an eye, the sky began to roar, spraying the boys with heavy precipitation that even managed to spook John. Freddie shrieked and hopped to his feet. Brian already looked wild as his hair began to flatten to his head, so he was up running after Freddie in no time. John scampered up and began fleeing to the door to escape the pouring rain, but Roger grabbed his arm.

The older boy cleared his throat and said, "Hey, I just wanted you to know that I'm really glad that you're back. I love you so much."

Though the rain had thoroughly soaked them both, they stayed still as John began to shyly smile. The brunette reached forward, tapping his fingers on both of Roger's cheeks. Roger could spot Freddie and Brian, huddled in each other's arms, under the porch's awning. Their eyes were closed as they gripped each other, and Roger realized that they weren't staring at Deaky and him for once. John squeezed Roger's face and touched their lips together, sucking the rainwater away. It was one kiss. One simple kiss. One simple, loving, meaningful kiss.

"Let's have a baby," muttered Roger, into his lover's lips.

"Roger Taylor!" John scolded, turning around and taking off for the porch.

The blond scoffed. "What? Did I ruin the moment? Deaky! Come back!" he shouted, chasing after the younger. "I was born to love you!"

John weaseled his way into the hug that Brian and Freddie were sharing. As Roger ducked out of the rain, the three boys stared at him, waited for him. He was breathing heavily, maybe from the kiss, maybe from the rush. Freddie reached out an arm and tugged Roger into the circle.

So, there they stood, four queens all wet from Mother Nature's tears, hugging and joyful that they were so lucky to have each other. Roger had a home, a family, and a love story. These flamboyant misfits were his best friends, and he loved them. He'd never really felt like he had had a place in the world, and he had always been okay with that. That was, until he realized how good it felt to belong, even if it was just with three other people. He didn't need anything but them.

Roger's eyes locked with Deaky's. Deaky was grinning at him with all of the love and happiness in the universe. Roger couldn't help but automatically return the gesture. This was all he wanted, all he needed. The unfiltered, drum playing, blond Year Eleven with the heavy-lidded, icy eyes and way-too-pink lips had found solace in the shy, witty bassist with indistinctly, greenish-grey orbs and a heart of pure gold. They were different, so different, but it didn't matter. These were their mistier mists, their hazier days, and no one could take that away from them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for deciding to read this fic! It took weeks of debating for me to post it, and I would really appreciate some feedback. Also, if anyone wants a sequel to this or other Queen related fics, please let me know! I greatly appreciate the time you spent reading my words. :)
> 
> Side note: I'd like to clarify that Maxim and Elaine are completely fictional and are not based off of anyone in real life.
> 
> -Phantom


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